


Two Sides of the Coin

by ReclessAbandon



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bounty Hunters, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fem OC - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitivity, Force Training, Force Visions, Force-Sensitive Original Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Jedi, Jidne Sheedra, Jidne Sheedra - OC - Freeform, Light Angst, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Order 66, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Planets, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Order 66, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24625225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	1. Vengeful Vader

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea since April, I’ve already made the outline and everything. But back then I was afraid that it might not be well-received for silly reasons borne from my overthinking. Until an Anon sent this prompt a few weeks or so after I’ve made the original outline. Turns out, I just needed that little push… so, a big thank you to Anon for adding up to the plot and allowing me to finally use my precious OC for this story! ^w^

Darth Vader barely contained the sea overflowing and flooding into the broken glass that the wretched Jedi boy created. While this was no stretch for himself and his abilities, the sight of the boy and the adult woman swimming away to safety while he holds back a wall of water greatly vexed him.

That frustration evolved into anger, Darth Vader literally cut through the tunnel of water using the Force. The water gave way like servants to a king, he had both hands outstretched to the sides, the ripples swirled unnaturally to follow the whim of the Force under Vader’s manipulation. He marched through the corridor and finally reached the end with the door, seawater sloshed and gave for the dark lord.

The door whizzed open, but not a single drop of the sea entered—only Darth Vader. He can now finally rest his arms. The ocean raged in the other side of the door, the bubbling seawater muffled through the blast door. The Sith lord hurried his way to what little remained of the turbolift. He was safe inside that cylinder, away from drowning; he set the elevator to bring him to the highest level, the upper hangars were his destination.

“Commander,” Vader called through the commlink available in the turbolift’s terminal.

“Lord Vader?” the commander acknowledged.

“Have my ship ready in the hangar,”

“Yes, Lord Vader, I’ll personally send you the hangar coordinates,”

Silence on Vader’s end until the transmission cut. Seconds after the call, a tone chirped on the screen of the terminal. A string of text comprised of a single letter and three numbers flashed white against the black screen.

C-848.

Darth Vader knows the location. He remained poised and erect in his posture as he stood at the center of the lift, arms crossed together, head slightly hung low—in this kind of position, he often found himself meditating involuntarily. Although, he preferred his own chambers. The elevator rumbled, the lights flickered for a brief second, and the doors hissed open.

He stepped out of the platform, proceeded along the corridors of the uppermost levels of the fortress. Keeping the hangar coordinates in mind, he knew where a path leads in this place, after all, it was modeled and referenced after his _own_ fortress back in Mustafar. He found the same commander standing by the entrance door of hangar C-848.

“Welcome, Lord Vader. We have your ship prepped, fully-fueled, and calibrated for travel.”

“Very good, Commander. See to it that the damaged areas below sea level are repaired before this whole building collapses.”

The dark lord did not stop his tracks for the niceties. He continued striding across the hangar towards a shuttle; its sleek, ivory body gleamed and stood out against the black, tiled floor of the hangar—emphasizing the symbolism of its elite status and the regal sophistication of its design.

The officer followed his master, but within a safe distance behind him while still in Vader’s earshot. He dared to lean forward, as if hoping to get a reaction from this lumbering machine of a man.

“But, sir, the fortress’s foundation is impregnable! Three to five maintenance units can easily rectify the critical areas and restore the integrity of the building.”

“I do not have the fool’s faith as you do when it comes to infrastructures, Commander. You either do as I say or go down into the bottom of the ocean with the rest of this tower!” Vade rebuked, his strides becoming wider, indicating his impatience and growing annoyance on the commander.

When the officer realized that he has raised his voice against Darth Vader—even for just a pitch higher—he softened up, withdrawing to retain his distance, and felt his stomach sank. Quickly, he thought of a way to ease the lord’s mind or shift his attention somewhere else; he overthought so much that the vein on his temple throbbed—both in self-imposed sheer pressure and fear of what Darth Vader might do to him for speaking back.

“Has the Emperor been reported of this whole ordeal?” he stammered.

Not wishing any more elaborations in this banter, he uses this simple line to leave little to no room for arguments, “Leave all of that to me.”

“As you wish, my lord.” The commander got the hint that there should be no more words further said, he dismissed himself to the command center of the hangar, praying for himself to melt and dissolve into the floor for that exchange, wishing that the last few lines he had traded with the dark lord had never happened.

Darth Vader continued to march through the hangar. His cape billowed with every step, flanked by rows upon rows of Stormtroopers—with militantly straight backs and hands cradling their blasters in an unwavering steadiness—on both of his sides. A pair of crimson-robed guards stood by the entry ramp of the shuttle; hydraulic steam wafted about the vibrant red fabric of their capes while awaiting their master, they didn’t move a single muscle until Darth Vader has fully set foot into the shuttle. They were the last one to board the ship as they flanked behind the Sith lord.

The pilot asked the destination, Vader simply replied with the coordinates of the planet he wishes. Without question, the pilot enters the combination of letters and numbers into the computer, the ship’s system quickly registered the data. He relayed the coordinates to Darth Vader’s command ship, to be immediately done upon his boarding.

“Setting course for Modala.” The pilot announced.

By rote, the pilot connected his speakers to the hangar’s bridge and underwent the standard procedure and protocols—as everybody in any Imperial establishment does: he recites the monotonous, robotic pattern of sentences that he relays to the command center—in return, an operations officer verifies and authorizes the take-off of the shuttle.

The ship was finally allowed to leave the hangar. The sooner they get out of the building, the better, thought Vader—sinking into the sea floor with black fortress debris wasn’t exactly part of his itinerary in this planet. In a bird’s-eye view, the tower looked fine; it shrank in size as the shuttle gained altitude, for a brief second, sheets of clouds obscured Vader’s view of the deep black space. The ship finally pored through Nur’s stratosphere; the tiny ivory speck that is the Imperial shuttle zipped towards one of the bigger ships—the Star Destroyers.

“This is shuttle _Revenant_ , with Darth Vader requesting boarding into command ship _Paradox_ ,” the pilot announced casually through the microphone of the cockpit dashboard.

A muffled voice crackled through the speakers, “Request permitted, shuttle _Revenant_. Proceed to boarding hatch. Welcome, Lord Vader.”

The shuttle hovered itself into an open hatch in the underbelly of the bigger ship. Tractor beams braced the small vessel on both sides and drew it further into the command ship’s interior. A slight quake in the _Revenant_ signaled that they have successfully boarded the _Paradox._ A tunnel walkway connected the exit ramp into the wide hallway floor of the command ship, Darth Vader saw himself out of the _Revenant_ —flanked by the crimson Royal Guards—and made his way to the bridge, where the operators have already charted a course to Modala and punched it when Vader set foot into the ship.

At the center of the bridge, in front of a window of a full view, stood Vader gazing back at the cluster of Nur—its planet as well as its moons. The sight of the fortress long gone, the dark lord turned his attention to the vacuum of nothingness as black as the heavy armor that cages him.


	2. One for the Job

**_MODALA, KAGAN SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES_ **

The planet was nearly barren, blanketed with grey skies and silver clouds that hung low—but neither thunder nor lightning appeared, yet the possibility loomed as low as the puffs and pillars of clouds as it seemed to close beyond the peaks. Mountain ranges framed the horizon in silhouettes as black as charcoal. Woodland barely covered the gorges and quarries, flora was sparse and selective—you’d see more rock than leafy greens, to see some vegetation, one would have to trek for miles.

Rocky terrain outstretched itself to the far reaches of the planet, leaving barely any room for water to spring, empty craters served as bowls to a rain that may never come. A city stood into the middle of the wasteland, a beacon and an oasis—for those running away from something or someone, or those who just want a nice tall glass of liquor to drown away their grievances.

The same shuttle escorted Vader to the surface of the planet, it docked near the enormous structure that distanced itself away from the border of the city. Strategically placed near a lake, it was nothing but a block of concrete, adorned with statues that served as mere ornaments upon the gates of the fortification. The architecture was crude, perhaps the owner invested it all on the space. From a certain point of view, it was deemed a castle—at least in a ruffian’s standards.

The lone dark lord of the Sith ventured into the stronghold. A hatch in the giant metal door popped open and out comes a scanner droid, grumbling in a throaty, alien language at Darth Vader.

“I am here for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild.” Vader simply said.

A single glimpse was enough to prompt the person on the other side of the door to let him in. The main door creaked, pulling its weight was enough of a burden in its rusty cogs, and the castle owner raised the door high enough for the esteemed guest to bring himself inside. The guards at the entrance to the main audience hall slightly shifted upon the sight of Lord Vader—who ignored them as he passed them by—wordlessly, they agreed that the guest is tenfold the terror than anyone who’s set foot into their stronghold.

Darth Vader’s grand—albeit abrupt—entrance into the main chamber caused all heads to turn and the chatter to quieten. Literally standing in the center of attention, he ignored the curious and intrigued gazes, their eyes unable to penetrate through that black shell from head to toe.

The castle owner, a human male—whose face was etched with wrinkles and sullen cheekbones—sat at the center of the chamber, surrounded by his guests and fanned by a pair of scantily-clad, lavender Twi’leks. When Darth Vader stepped into the brightest light in the room, the master of the house sprang from his throne with his arms extended on both sides—a boisterous welcome, contrast to Vader’s entire demeanor.

“Well, well,” the owner beamed, his voice mingling with the soft, robotic breathing of the dark lord. “Welcome, welcome!”

He was received with an indifferent silence. The owner started over with a throaty chuckle through the clenched smile.

“Baz Oldak, head of the Guild’s local charter, how can I be of service, m’lord?” he introduced himself in a jester-like tone, mixing between sarcastic and genuinely welcoming, curtsying at the dark lord while keeping a safe distance.

“I require a bounty hunter,” Darth Vader simply said, and then let himself finish to emphasize the next words. “Your _best_ one.”

Baz Oldak chuckled, impressed by the simple yet heavy request.

More heads and eyes shifted, side-glances played along Darth Vader’s periphery but he blatantly ignored them all, not knowing that most of them were actual bounty hunters. The idea of being hired by none other than _the_ Darth Vader himself is a demanding job—but a rewarding one nonetheless once his contract is satisfied. The idea of being flushed with coin from the most powerful authority in all of the systems is each and every single hunter’s wet dream.

“Well now, Lord Vader,” Baz rubbed the curve of his chin. “And who’s the miserable sod that one of my hunters will come after?”

“ _That_ is only between me and whom I’ll choose,”

“By all means, m’lord,” Oldak motioned to the entire room with one slow sweep of his arm. “Take your pick.”

The blood-red coating of his helmet’s sockets gleamed menacingly under the spotlight; ever since he stepped into this place, the sleight of his head finally panned across the room—he was personally scouting the one.

Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with the variety before him. He angled his head back in front of Oldak.

“None of these seem to be capable,” Vader commented. He stepped closer to Oldak, to which the ordinary male took one step back out of sudden terror; the dark lord spoke in a hushed tone, albeit it’s more frightening than his usual tone. “These couldn’t be _all_ of your hunters? I heard that this local charter of the Guild housed one of the best. Surely, that’s no exaggeration.”

“My, my, I suppose I’m going have to bring you to the _back room,_ ”

The codenaming didn’t faze the dark lord, though it intrigued him. Oldak spoke in whispers, his words only came through Vader, and then gestured to a particular area across the chamber where he may find what he needs.

With great haste, Darth Vader brushed past Baz Oldak’s shoulder, the impact of his black duraplast breastplate was enough to leave a bruise.

“She isn’t expecting any visitors though,” the small man quipped a final time, massaging and flexing his shoulder as Vader halted—hoping that this little host would have said something more substantial.

The blast door led Darth Vader into a room. A lounge of sorts with a booth in the center, but the shadow of the canopy obscured the body of the one who’s seated alone, glass of liquor in hand. Their legs perched over the center table were the only ones exposed under the light, the boots slightly wiggling in a leisurely rhythm but there was no music—not even a light note or melody in place.

As Vader went closer, he was able to gradually make out the face of this hunter who kept their head low in the shadows. The silhouette of the Sith lord had already occupied the hunter’s periphery, to which they had no choice but to pull their head up to face him in the comfort of their shade.

“Well, let’s see, now…” a female voice hummed. The whites of her eyes slightly popped out in the dark. “Tall, dark…

Her eyes examined Vader from top to bottom, she afforded a little chuckle, “Brooding. You must be the fabled Darth Vader.”

Silence from Vader, exempting the slow, huffed inhaling and exhaling through his mask.

However, he sensed the smallest twinge of fear within this young woman. He wagered that her confidence sourced only in the shadow of that canopy. She remained unmoving and pressed on with her questions.

“So, what brings you to this desolate skughole?”

“A contract, no less. Your guild head spoke highly of you and I wanted to test out the wares, _Jidné._ ”

A scoff-like chuckle escaped her nostrils, she raised her eyebrows—not caring whether Vader could see her expression in the dark or not.

“Then you must be very desperate,” Jidné retorted as-a-matter-of-factly, tipping her head a bit before sipping her glass.

“My previous agent has performed quite disappointingly. I am simply expanding my options.”

“How perceptive,” she puts down her glass, untangled her crossed legs and pulled them away from the table, finally showing her face into the light—to face Vader.

Long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders, the loose locks that dangled from her hairline framed her young face. A scar—whose flesh has healed and pinked over time—traced the contour of her cheekbone, standing out from the natural color of her skin. To Vader, she was but a child wearing a woman’s clothes; his curiosity brought him nothing but questions as he studied the girl.

 _So young, for someone in such a dangerous occupation._ He thought to himself as he saw through the red film of his helmet’s socket.

Though the appearance didn’t matter to him as long as she could finish the job.

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. “Now then, who’s the goose I’m chasing?”

Darth Vader was never one for long conversations, and he always kept himself reserved with his words unless necessary.

“A boy,”

“A _boy?_ ” Jidné scoffed, afraid that a laugh might offend him. “You have to do better than that, m’lord. But okay, I’ll bite: what’s the deal with this boy?”

“That boy is a Jedi.”

Jidné’s head angled to the side, her interest significantly piqued. Her squinted eyes under the shadows of her room prompted Vader to elaborate.

“And what’s so special about this Jedi—besides the hefty bounty on his head?”

“He is in possession of something vital. Bring him to me alive—along with what I want from him. I can guarantee your payment will cover _both_ his bounty _and_ your fee,”

“I suppose Baz told you that I require a 50% upfront payment. Also, you do realize that you have to pay a portion for him—he calls it a referral fee.”

“Consider them all done.”

Darth Vader slightly angled himself, turning back to the guards, bellowing a single yet firm “Guards!” and a pair of Stormtroopers poured into Jidné’s lounge room—one of them held a cylindrical case. He puts it down on the center table, a single turn of the handle and the hydraulic lock unlatches; revealing columns of credits neatly lined to the very walls of the case.

In a single glance, Jidné estimates the total contents to cover her upfront and Baz’s referral—with a _quite generous_ tip just so he can shut his mouth. Her client has certainly outdone himself.

“The bounty and the other half of your fee will be given once you’ve delivered what I ask.”

She fished out a single bar from the cylinder, light danced on the clean, golden finish of the money as she examined it under the light. She returned it and sealed the container herself.

“By any chance, do you know his name?”

“No. Red hair, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Okay, that narrows things down a bit,” she leered, making a pensive face as she rolls her eyes and bobs her head. “Good enough.”

Jidné stood up to her full height, but not even she can level herself with the literal standing of the dark lord—whom she wagered to be no less than six feet and three. She had to lean an inch back to fully view his entirety. The light of her lounge room highlighted the sharp edges of his mask and the crimson film on the sockets showed her distorted reflection.

She awkwardly stepped to the side, the canister filled to the brim with credits in her hand, and proceeded to leave Vader in her own chambers as she prepares herself to head out.

“Remember, bounty hunter: alive.”

That reminder stopped Jidné in her tracks, she glanced over her shoulder until Vader was back in her peripheral vision. Her snarky attitude had been taken over by her deadpan, serious mode the moment she saw herself to the door. Now, a firm tone of the voice lingered in her throat as she answered.

“Yes, my lord.” She assured.

Finally, Jidné exited the room and left the door open for Vader. Her right hand searched for the leather holster dangling by her belt, she pressed her palm against the fabric until it sank to follow the mold of the weapon inside, her fingers blindly tracing out the vague shapes that embossed over the holster.

She zipped through the crowds loitering by the doorway of the main hall and headed to the docking bay of the castle where her beloved carriage awaits her.


	3. Picking Up A Lead

As Jidné got out of the castle, her stomach plummeted to her feet and her legs transformed into limp noodles—barely doing their job and instead dragged her along in every step. It was gradually sinking into her that the person who gave her the job was one of the most feared figures among the Jedi. She clutched her abdomen, crumpling the center of her jacket while waiting for the entry ramp to unfurl.

Not wanting to look back over her shoulder, she knew that she’d have the safety and privacy she needs within her vessel: a Dynamic-class freighter that she personally retrofitted and anointed the _Crescent Scarab._ It was a fine work of art that she greatly took pride in, so much so, that she has modified everything to her liking. She darted to the lounge of the ship, lousily putting down the canister and then splaying herself over the sofa.

Coming from the cockpit, an ID seeker droid acknowledged her arrival and greeted her. Its multiple claws on its tentacles flowed and twitched as its single eye panned left and right, scanning its owner.

“Hey, Eye-Dee Three,” Jidné greeted back.

The droid named ID-3, formerly Imperial property of another probe droid variant, is the only other passenger in the Scarab besides the pilot, Jidné herself. The droid chittered in its raspy, monotonous string of notes as it hovered closer towards its owner.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just… felt like jelly is all,” she brings her hand on the top of the black droid’s flat dome for a head.

The young bounty hunter detached the holster from her belt and set it down on the table, right next to the canister of credits. She stared at both objects for a good long minute, contemplating and pondering her strategy on how she’ll begin with this contract. Jidné reached out for her weapon holster first, taking it with both hands and then unbuttoning the flap—a polished, silver emitter pokes out of the lining.

She gently tilted the holster downward until an enough length of the weapon inside slid out. She caught the shaft before it could completely fall off. She rolled the hilt across her hand, feeling and tracing for the etchings, curves, and dips of the design. She held it high and proud, in the same way as she finished constructing it, the tassel that she knotted around the ring of her pommel caught her eye. Two strands, unequal in length, dangling at the very end of the hilt. The longer strand had seven turquoise beads, at the end of its thread is a cluster of feathers—three to be precise—though the wear and tear was very obvious; the short one had four beads of the same color but lacks a feather.

“Feathers are almost gone,” she hummed, fiddling the remaining tufts.

Her heart skipped a beat—it always does, even though she has done this many times. In her hand, the cold metal of the lightsaber’s sleeve stung the nerves of her palm. A small, somewhat satisfied smile curled along her lips—the weapon had brought her good memories, but also nightmares—and that smile became fleeting like a comet. Her thumb ran across the metal finish of the body and found the switch, the idea of igniting it was seductive—a temptation that she has no strength to fight back.

The snarl of the ignition took her breath away. A vibrant purple blade bore out of the emitter, its glow colored the paleness of her cheeks and reflected against the gloss of her brown irises.

“Jedi, huh?” she muttered to herself.

“Beeee-deee, trill?”

“That’s right, ID, we’re after a Jedi,”

Jidné sighed, and then switched her saber off before tucking it back into the pouch.

When her legs finally regained their strength, she walked to the cockpit and beckoned her droid companion—who still hovered close to her side—and joined her in the seat. As she put herself into work mode, she recalled the very _helpful_ detail that Darth Vader gave. She breathed out a resigned sigh that drowned in the hollow hum of the Scarab’s engine revving up.

In a galaxy that stretched a thousand times more than the eye could see, how is she going to narrow down to finding a _single_ Jedi?

“Say, ID, how likely are we to stumble into a redheaded Jedi on the run?”

“Beee… chirp!”

Jidné chuckled at the response, “I figured as much.”

With little base information she has, she knew she had to be resourceful. Lately, she’s picked up murmurs from Baz’s stronghold—as well as the gossips in the cantinas she frequented in Modala—that bounty hunters were also after a Jedi, solely for the bounty on his head, not because Darth Vader had hired others behind Jidné’s back or the other way around.

While gossip wasn’t exactly the best source material, she had to make do. The young bounty hunter swallowed her pride and entered the coordinates of her first stop.

Upon seeing the coordinates on the computer, ID-3 erratically chittered in protest.

“We have no other choice, buddy. They’re the closest we can get to the target,”

ID-3 lowed in disagreement, submitting to Jidné’s decision and continued assisting her in the ship, much to his chagrin. His owner sensed the disdain and petted its flat dome again.

“Don’t worry, you’ll stay close to me, right?”

“Beeep!”

Jidné smiled and boosted the ship’s throttle, following their course to Ordo Eris.

——————————————————–

Jidné piloted the ship with great care, evading the rock debris and asteroids that floated within the orbit. Her destination was dead ahead: one of the biggest rocks in the field, a needle of the infrastructure built within, a fiery orange glow encircled the central crater’s inner rim.

“I really don’t like this place,” she complained to no one in particular—except herself.

She slowed down the speed of the freighter until she got close enough to the outpost. A red blip flashed on her screen and vanished seconds after spotting it. There was a noticeable gaping crack of the arena’s ray shield wall that protects the outpost from the elements outside the planetoid, the young hunter added that to her list of questions once she lands.

The Scarab docked on the empty arena. It wasn’t entirely new for her see it devoid of animals and sentient creatures fighting for dear life, though it was a better sight than the deafening chorus of wild cheers mingling with animal roars. The Scarab’s landing gears disturbed the floor of the arena, creating clouds of sand around its pads, the exit ramp unfurled for Jidné and ID-3 to alight the ship.

A trio of bounty hunters approached her, there were more standing by the arena’s walls as well. Shortly after, they gave way for their Umbaran boss clad in silken, luxurious violet robes—he stuck out like a sore thumb around the orange light that filled his colosseum. For someone with sallow, prominent cheekbones and paper-white skin, he moved quite flamboyantly—contrast to his sickly appearance—perfectly matching up to the vibrancy of his rich, violet robes.

“We need to talk, Sorc,” the bounty hunter abruptly began, not having time for the dilly-dallying.

“Well, well,” he spoke in a singsong manner. He rubbed his goatee as he swayed. “It’s been way too long, dove. Come, come!”

Jidné didn’t come closer, even though Sorc beckoned her with his fingers covered in rings, so much so that the fingernails were the only ones exposed.

“Oh come on now, little dove, you act like we didn’t have history together!”

The bounty hunter rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Don’t call me that. Plus, that history was basically me being your delivery girl of animals and captives. It’s no big contract, just a sideline.”

“Ah, but you gave me a lot of good stuff for my arena! When you worked for me back in the day, I never ran out of customers—always looking for some mauling, goring, and all that crazy stuff!”

Completely uninterested of Sorc’s rambling about his business of arena fights between humanoids, humans or sentient beings against wild, senseless animals, Jidné cut to the chase.

“I don’t have time for stories, Sorc,”

“Of course, you aren’t. But, you know, intel—”

“Isn’t your expertise,” Jidné finished the sentence, even though that wasn’t exactly what Sorc was going to say. She put her hands over her waist, “But you’re the only one I know who could give me just that. Think of it as a compliment.”

The Umbaran pursed his lips, he opened his palm right in front of her. Fishing two gold chips out of her pocket and then tossing them to the hand, his fingers greedily caged the money into his fist and hurriedly tucked them into his robes.

“Always so hasty,” he rolled his eyes and smacked his lips. “Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“A boy. Redheaded Jedi.”

Sorc Tormo purred a long “Ahh” and wagged his finger at the girl, a mischievous grin stretching ear-to-ear on his pale white face.

“Handsome?”

Jidné’s eyebrows pulled together, creasing her forehead.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but okay, I guess?”

A throaty snicker rumbled from the Umbaran, still wagging his finger at the girl in a more teasing manner—it was almost childlike.

The surrounding bounty hunters subtly showed signs of hostility towards Jidné, her eyes already caught their movements with the slightest of side-glances: the ones standing closest to them were tightening their grips around their blasters, the ones who were a little far away but still within earshot had their hands slowly wandering towards their holsters.

She got the hint. Apparently, the Jedi was a prize indeed.

“Now _that_ is an interesting subject—even for _you_ , sweetheart!” Sorc Tormo guffawed, leaning to his knees while keeping his eyes on her.

She pointed at the damage with her thumb over her shoulder, without needing any words to make out the question, Sorc Tormo immediately has the answer.

“Ah!” he clicked his tongue. “We got a little… _caught by surprise._ ”

“One hell of a surprise, if you ask me,”

“Oh honey, you don’t even know the start of it!” he swatted the air with his hand.

“He did that, didn’t he?”

Sorc Tormo’s boisterous guffaw startled the young girl as she awkwardly watched him laugh straight at her face. When he still hasn’t gotten all of the laughter of his system, he’s still chortling as he swings his arm at the air.

“Aww, ya shoulda see the baby go! Slashing away and getting chocked up by my pets and men. Crowd was wild, I had a full box that day!”

“You don’t know where he is, but you’ve seen him,” she insinuated.

Sorc got carried away with the compulsive need to tell it all, a force of habit, from the way she picked up his words, it was clear as the eye-straining color of his gaudy robes—the redheaded Jedi has engaged with the Haxion Brood.

“And you’re after him, too?”

“Hey, it pays the bills, sweetie!” he throws his arms to his sides, solely focusing on the topic of money. “Honestly, I could care less about the kid, but knowing the price on that pretty head of his, you really can’t blame us tryna make honest work, eh?”

“He’s mine!” she snarled, taking two steps towards Sorc.

Immediately, his bounty hunters became defensive of him, stopping her in her path by pointing the barrels of their rifles at her. That didn’t scare her, though, she takes another step close to the point that the holes of the blaster press against her body. She shot a dirty look at the pair of bounty hunters.

“If there’s one thing I hate: it’s competition.” She added.

Sorc chuckled, unintimidated and kept up his lurid façade, he gestured his hand in a circular motion that covered Jidné’s front.

“From what I could read in all this defensiveness, I strongly deduce that you have a contract out to get him.”

“Good job, man, do you want a prize for that?” she sardonically rebutted, keeping up with the Umbaran’s sarcasm with her own flavor.

There was no constructive reply from Sorc, other than another throaty chuckle. The girl’s patience is being stretched thin by the minute, not until she’s satisfied of filling the gaps that Darth Vader left in the job description.

Her sarcasm was quickly replaced with an imposing snarl through the clench of her teeth, “What else do you know?”

“He travels with that little gray grub that owes me a shitton of money!”

“A lot of little grubs owe you a shit-wad of money, Tormo, you’re gonna have to be _much more specific._ ”

The syndicate boss sighed, often forgetting that this little bounty hunter was a persistent one— _too_ persistent for her age rather. He shooed away his bounty hunters from being human barricades between Jidné and himself. They eased up, leaving a gap for Sorc and Jidné to converse with less distractions, but they still kept an eye on the girl—wary of her movements as she’s already starting to be aggressive.

“Alright, alright, fine! Your redhead is with the ship called the Mantis—it’s an S-161, you’ve been a mechanic part-time, right? You should know what that looks like. Now, for the grub that baby boy drives around with—he’s a stubby, little guy. Kinda old, wiry hair, bald on the top.”

“The companion—is he human too?”

“No, that grub is a Lateron. Stout, little thing. Four arms.”

Jidné tossed one last golden chip at Sorc, to which he skillfully caught into his hand; he fluidly slipped it into the inside pocket of his robes, making a soundless clink with the others, as he watched Jidné turn her back at him and walk away.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dove! Don’t be a stranger!”

“I plan to be!” Jidné clapped back before fully disappearing into the ship.

Sorc Tormo watched Jidné prep up the freighter, he even giddily waved goodbye at her to which she repaid with a fed-up rolling of the eye; she ignored him after that, focusing on the dashboard monitors of her ship as she eagerly flies the ship out of the rock. The freighter’s throttle blew at the entire arena—everyone’s capes and coattails flapped and smacked against their legs wildly as Jidné maneuvered the ship to face the gaping crack of the outpost’s wall.

“Are we gunna go after ‘er, boss?” one of the bounty hunters asked.

“Sure. It might be fun to have the baby boy and the baby girl together—they either kill each other or save each other, whatever and whichever works,” Sorc thought out loud, he rubbed his goatee with his ring-covered fingers and a grin stretched across his wrinkled, sallow face. “A ransom… no, a fugitive’s bounty on her head too! Yes, that would be very delicious. Go on now, SHOO!”

All of the bounty hunters dispersed, whooping in glee and greed as they gathered into their crude ships, bringing along the HURID-class droids for added muscle and brawn. Sorc Tormo stood idly in the exact spot he’s been staying in ever since Jidné came until she left, he listened to the barbaric laughter and chatter among his men; that greedy, coy grin never melted in his face—the only thing that ran around his brain was the idea of having sacks upon sacks of credits delivered to his private chambers, rewarded for the joint bounties of the Jedi and Jidné.


	4. Target Acquired

Jidné has finally flew out of Ordo Eris’s orbit, back into the deep black vacuum of space she goes. She was still within the same system as the Haxion Brood’s outpost, although she was closer to the planets neighboring one another. While the Scarab cruises leisurely in space, she tried to tweak the satellite’s range in the hopes that she would pick up the said S-161’s signal—it wasn’t impossible, though it’s very unlikely to get good results out of it.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to find them, ID,”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, although despondently.

She leaned against the pilot’s seat, tapping her fingers in a beat on the cushioned armrests, she tilted her head back. The bounty hunter was running out of ideas, the first suggestion she gave herself was to scour the surrounding planets around Ordo Eris.

Ironically, she looked for answers from within herself.

“Now, if I was a Jedi on the run…” she muttered to herself—a short-lived smirk played along her lips to acknowledge the irony—absentmindedly stroking the dashboard screen as she thought of the possibilities. Her eyes shifted around the cockpit, as if searching for the next words.

“Someplace not densely populated—but that would make one easy to find, less people but more natural camouflage. Densely populated—it’ll be too… people-y outside, but makes you lost in the crowd, hard to spot with a lot of people all around you, but would make a scene if you do get caught.”

She drew her leg up and rung her around her shin. She bowed her head and rubbed her chin, pondering hard on similar theories and assumptions that are likely realistic. It appeared like she’s meditating in her own way.

The hours dragged on as Jidné squeezed her brain for more realistic ideas while the Scarab floated past the planets. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking of more ways to get by—until one came to mind and it was actually the last thing she wanted to do, so she set it aside for the moment.

“Haxion’s out to get Redhead, too,” she recalled the fact that the Brood had their hunters scattered across the planets in search of Cal, even prior to Vader hiring her.

Giving up, she decided if gathering more intel was the best first step in this plan—just so she can piece together what her sources tell her, starting from what Sorc has told her so far, she listed all of the planets where she could get better intel on the top of her mind.

Minutes later after brainstorming by herself, her dexterous fingers danced across the dashboard buttons until a map reflected on the black screen, presenting the holograms of the surrounding planets within her current location.

“Too near Ordo Eris, they wouldn’t want to get close,” presumed Jidné, peering over a green planet with three moons on the hologram; she then turned her attention back to the computer, entering another system’s coordinates. “This one? Not too near, not too far either.”

Her scanning of the current map was cut short when the secondary monitor on her dashboard blinked a huge red circle in the radar. The droid croaked a high-pitched chitter—in droidspeak, it’d be a panicked screech—alarmed by the sudden appearance of big red blip. Quickly, she paid attention to that blip, as it may be a hostile—as she always does. She brought her leg back down, returned her grip on the steering wheel and buckled up in her seat.

“ID, see if you can amplify the scanners and satellites, I wanna take a good look at that ship,” Jidné clearly and sternly commanded, but she wasn’t in full panic mode yet unlike her little, hovering friend.

ID-3 obliged, regardless; from one of his metal pincers, a data port plug connected with the dashboard, he relayed the information from his databank to the screen where Jidné can see. The former Imperial droid gave a full view of the ship, its model and serial name. The pilot’s eyes widened as she read the jumble of characters that is its model name.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” She expressed in full disbelief rather than enthusiasm.

It was the Mantis!

She cranked the gears of the Scarab and tailed the target. Her fingers tensed around the wheel.

“ID, get ready to mask the Scarab’s signature when we get in closer range,”

“Trill!”

Apparently, ID didn’t need to do much work in scrambling the Scarab’s signal. The sudden turbulence that she and her droid were experiencing were due to the incoming meteor shower that the two ships are bringing themselves in are doing that for them.

“ _That_ is one crazy pilot,” Jidné quipped after witnessing the Mantis zip through the barrage of nearly-molten rocks shooting in their direction like cannon fire.

The Mantis and Scarab were complete contrasts to one another in terms of shape and size. The Mantis was narrow and thin like a needle, while the Scarab was curvy and wide—but when maneuvered vertically, it can pass through the gap of a trench. In this case, both ships were doing their own evasive maneuvers to survive the hailstorm of rocks.

A few smaller rocks have scraped and dented the exterior of the Scarab, but the gravitational pull of the phenomenon caused the ship to rumble so much that it’s starting to make Jidné nauseous. All of the debris that passed by scorched the exterior of the freighter, leaving loud bangs against the metal as they fleeted away.

“This certainly isn’t how I planned my day to go!”

She swept through the meteors and gained on the Mantis, with the Scarab masked—amplified by the shower interfering with the clarity of signals—the other ship didn’t exactly put all of their attention to her, but she sensed that they got the hint. She pushed the pedal to the metal in order to get at least neck-and-neck with her target, she flicked the clear glass cover of a red switch atop the shaft of her steering wheel.

Due to the rocks that literally scrape by the sides of the Scarab, constantly making the vessel quake, Jidné’s thumbs always strayed away from the button.

“I’ll never get a clean shot at them!”

Her eyesight narrowed, she sets the targeting device dead-set on the Mantis. The grid swerved as it followed the Mantis real-time, Jidné glanced at the targeting monitor every once in a while as she tries to accelerate to a greater speed.

“Almost there,” she rasped.

Her thumb hovered over the red button, impatient and eager to punch it, Jidné insisted to close a few more miles between the Scarab and the Mantis before she could fire the shots.

“There!”

A single shot darted out of the barrel—the bullet was a homing beacon not bigger than a land mine—and adhered to the exterior of the Mantis.

 _Good, they’ll never seen me coming._ She thought triumphantly.

She flicked back the glass cover down and pressed a series of buttons on her dashboard. A small circular screen on the dashboard glowed blue in the corner of Jidné’s eye.

“We got them on our trail, ID!” she celebrated, smirking as she slowed down, withdrew from the dogfight and watched the Mantis weakly swerve as it tried to hold itself together while trying to get through the meteor shower.

Meanwhile, Jidné also tried to find her way out of this infernal shower of rocks. As much as she wanted to keep an eye on her target, she had to put her faith on the homing beacon—hoping that it doesn’t get cooked if they ever crash land into that beige planet.

She pulled the ship up, gaining altitude and placing her freighter above the meteor shower’s path. She detours from the planet floating right in front of her and ID-3 to give the Scarab a rest. The bounty hunter peered at the monitors again, but mostly focusing on the screen that shows the diagnostics of the ship’s internals.

“Integrity at 85%, I think we can stabilize that when we land,”

“Be-beep, chitter?”

“ID, see if you can analyze that planet they’re crash-landing into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,”

The ID seeker droid happily obliged this time, linking the arm with a built-in data port connector. Fishing from his databanks, he relayed the information to Jidné’s screen.

“Thanks, ID—knew I could count on you always!” she beamed, and then read the data that ID encoded on the monitor. “Ombari, huh? Well, I hope Redhead wished upon a star that I wouldn’t find him when we get there.”

“Chitter, trill!”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth a shot too,” Jidné snickered.

She set the acceleration to a high, passing Ombari’s asteroid-ridden ring and finally prepared herself to cut through the atmosphere before she could lose sight of her redheaded target.

Ombari was a tropical landmass. On one side, deltas and rivers sustained the lush jungles until the water stretched thin and ran dry beyond it, creating the desert badlands where the greenery is sparse but the villainy dense. Jidné was no stranger to such setting—she practically spent her second childhood in a similar environment.

Jidné wanted to keep her profile low as well, so she docked the Scarab in the deeper part of the jungle—she’d be in the border between the rich jungles, civilization, and the badlands. Finding the Mantis in space was easier said than done, however, finding the _passenger_ of the Mantis was basically finding the hay in a needle stack.

“Come on, ID,” she beckoned as she marched through the narrow hall of the freighter, she headed to the compartment where she kept her weapon.

The narrow door hissed open, revealing her customized electropike-rifle hybrid leaning against the door. Jidné took it out of the compartment and studied the matte finish of the handle, some parts already have its paint job chipping due to time and usage; she weighed it on her arms and made a shooting position to get a feel of it again. She slid her hand up to the mandibles at the very end of the weapon, examining the conduits where the electric charge will run.

“Still mint, aren’t ya?” Jidné cooed and then slung the weapon’s strap against her chest.

She patted the holster on her hip one more time, reassuring herself that the saber is still safe and sound inside the leather pouch. By rote, ID hovered close to his owner, folded all of his tentacles and tucked it close to its disc-like body before latching onto the body harness that Jidné wears.

To conceal her droid and save herself the trouble of being accused of stealing Imperial property—which ID-3 obviously isn’t anymore—she donned a light tan cowl that wrapped around her shoulders, covering most of her jacket’s top portion. She asks if ID-3 is ready to go, to which the little dark droid responded with a low-volume chitter, and the duo leave the Scarab in search of their redheaded target.


	5. Not Exactly According to Plan

**_OMBARI, PONDARA SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES_ **

In the lusher parts of Ombari, the Mantis has landed itself near the hilltop town. The most prominent landmark of that settlement was the temple spire that soared to the heavens and nearly pierced the clouds—it was a sanctum of another long-forgotten civilization before this one. Buildings wrapped around the foot of the spire, whether it be homes or business establishments, thieves and honest people alike loitered the streets; a populace of diverse species and humans have housed themselves in this crude location.

If one would take a good look at the surrounding forest, remnants of what ought to be an ancient city—in the same timeline when the temple was at its prime—have been devoured by the flora and the fauna had made it their dominion along with the wilderness. The main road branched into different directions, leading to several other establishments in a fair distance from the city, and even branched through the “safer” part of the woods.

The Mantis kept her distance from the town, docking just behind the city across a river; Cal insisted that they land near the river that divides the city and the woods so that they’re in the median, personally, it’ll just be easy for him to find his way back, whether he goes to the forest or to the city.

The young Jedi also argued that they still remained closer to civilization, knowing that the captain preferred that instead of wild animals that can fold the Mantis in ten seconds. Greez took it to great consideration—much to his hidden chagrin—and landed the ship amongst the high trees that walled the settlement from the unforgiving badlands beyond.

“I should’ve fit some more armaments on this old girl!” Greez stressed, flailing his arms to further express his chagrin.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Greez,” Cere reassured, her tone is a perfect contrast to the captain’s. “Besides, predators don’t usually show themselves in the open.”

“Yeah, it makes them more vulnerable to the bigger ones,” Cal added.

Greez stammered, uncomforted by the Jedi’s logic, “ _There’s_ _always a bigger one!_ ”

“Well, I guess there’s no going around for me, not until I’ve convinced Greez enough that everything’s fine in this planet,” Cere sighed as she confided to Cal in the holotable room.

“Ya know I _can_ hear you!” Greez cried from the cockpit.

Cal chuckled before adding, “You guys can take a look around if you like, we’d still end up meeting back here in the Mantis anyway.”

“Fair point, you be careful out there,”

Cal straightened the neckline of his black poncho, BD-1 hopped over and clutched on the belt strap on his back and exited the Mantis. The door unfurled to reveal to him the world in a much larger scale. He felt small, but in a good way; he surveyed the horizon, not knowing which direction to go to first.

The first step onto Ombari’s soil hit different. Cal basked in the warm sunlight and felt a cool, light drizzle kiss his freckled cheeks. Rain and sunshine have mingled together, which was typical in a tropical planet. Meanwhile, in the first few miles into the badlands from the border, Jidné docked the Scarab by the greater water hole that stretched to the more abundant half of Ombari’s mainland.

Her end of the homing beacon continued to glow blue, it beeped a slow, monotonous rhythm indicating that her distance from the target was still far. Panning her head across the desert, she doesn’t spot any silver dorsal fin sticking out like a sore thumb in this reddish-orange wasteland; so, she headed north, towards the denser part of the planet.

The badlands was composed of uphill mesas that overlook the valley of the other side. From Jidné’s vantage point, the city was in sight, as well as the surrounding forest. She fished out her binoculars and scanned the area, searching for the ship among the trees—they were high enough to conceal an Imperial outpost or tower, but that won’t stop her from finding her target.

“Now, where could you be hiding, my little redhead?” Jidné muttered as she peered through her lens left and right.

The sun caught a twinkle of a silver tip shyly peeking out of the treeline. The bounty hunter immediately focused her binoculars in that direction, her thumb turned the knob of the zoom, even with her binoculars she still squinted her eyes in the viewfinder, attempting to see through the thin gaps between the trees.

The homing beacon beeped again, only this time the rhythm of the glow sped up a few beats. She put away her binoculars and went downhill, literally crossing the between the badlands and the mainland. Her boots scraped against the rocky slope, the forest floor carpeted by fallen leaves cushioned her fall; when she erected herself after her landing, she patted the holster on her hip and the felt for her rifle—both weapons are still on her person.

She stalked through the dense greenery, the dimness of the trees’ shade unsettled her little droid on her back.

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky. We’re getting out of here, don’t worry,”

Through the thick foliage, Jidné and ID-3 weren’t alone; amongst the shrubs and treetops where they hide, their sights followed the girl whom they immediately labeled as an intruder of their home. Black claws gripped around the branches, the muscles on their hind legs strained and prepped for a lunge if need be; the ones on the ground slipped and stealthily passed through the plants, concealing themselves from the human’s plain eyes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, ID, we just need to move fast if we don’t want anything catching up to us,” Jidné reassured, although she was getting uneasy herself. Her hand subtly crawled down to the flap of her holster, carefully unbuttoning the cover.

The animals were surely making their presence known, Jidné had already spotted one of them moving from its hiding place to the next; their low growling grumbled amongst the tree trunks. By instinct, she fished out her lightsaber hilt with a slight tug using the Force and is beginning to prepare herself in a stance.

She focused on the animal that she spotted moving cover to cover, little did she know that this one was a decoy. The true predator was waiting for her on its perch in the treetops. Jidné engaged at the animal when it revealed itself from the bushes: a large cat-like animal with dark, coarse fur, it carried itself with a silent grace with its slender yet muscular limbs, curved claws as deadly as a scimitar, and a long tail used to grapple on its perches.

It bared its teeth as it approached Jidné, asserting its frightful dominance in this jungle. Its back arched and its lips pulled back to show more teeth, agitated at the hiss of the saber’s blade, threatened by the foreign, purple glow that shone in its golden brown eyes.

“Down, kitty,” Jidné hummed.

The decoy still confronted Jidné, affording its companion to descend upon her in the speed of light, its claws fixed on the rifle, assuming that it was a bodily appendage than an actual weapon. Her startled shriek must have alerted every single creature—big or small—within the forest. In the distance, Cal jerked his head to the direction of the human scream, he squinted his eyes as the sound died down and was replaced by the harmonious chirping of birds.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Cal tells BD-1.

Jidné’s true assailant dragged her violently across the forest floor by the rifle on her back; she unbuckled the strap across her body to break free, she succeeded and crawled away—saber still in hand, but her grip was trembling, trying to pull herself together while her life is still flashing before her eyes. The animal thrashed its head wildly left and right while chewing at the weapon in an attempt to eat it; realizing that it was inedible, it flung it far behind its back and focused on the real prey.

Her fingers tensed around her hilt. For every flimsy swing she did to make them back away, they come back at her two steps closer with their yellow, blood-stained fangs in full display. She focused on the one that was closest to her—the decoy—and she grazed its shoulder with her lightsaber. It wailed in pain as the searing heat cooked its skin and fur, Jidné’s attack just made it angrier, all of the hairs on its body pricked up as it arched its back in retaliation.

“Come on!” Jidné screeched tauntingly.

She finally attacked the decoy. The decoy continued to lunge at her, thirsting for revenge after being nicked by her blade. Cal had heard the wail of the animal that Jidné had maimed, it rang loud and clear in his earshot, he knew he was in the right track. He sped through the forest: vaulting over fallen logs and boulders that stood in his path, shouldering his way through the large-leafed bushes and the trees until the humming of a saber was audible.

Cal discovered a girl wielding a purple saber, flailing it at the animals’ faces as she tried to keep herself from their claws’ or fangs’ reach. He watched her for a moment, slashing away at the one already riddled with seared cuts over its body. The wild cat creature lunged at her, in turn, Jidné smoothly evaded it and followed it by piercing the ribcage of the animal with her saber.

A third cat appeared in the place of the one she just killed, angrier and hungrier for meat. As if to exact vengeance on its fallen member, the pack leader charged at her, claws at the ready and reared—its heavy paw slapped away the saber from her hand, buried within the thick foliage of the forest floor.

“NO!!” she screeched, the animal had rendered her empty-handed and vulnerable.

Just when the animals thought that had her in their jaws, the newcomer tried to pounce on her until she seized the leaping animal in mid-air using the Force—Cal witnessed this, awe-stricken at the discovery of a fellow Jedi—her Force-push flung the animal away but quickly shook it off and readied itself back on its four paws.

Cal jumped into the action, instinctively stretching out his hand to inflict Force-slow on the alpha as he joined Jidné. She didn’t take her eyes off the animals, though she stole a glance at her unlikely helper.

_Red hair._

Her stomach sank, but everything was happening so quickly that she couldn’t register them all at once in her panicking brain.

Cal was on the offensive and targeted the alpha, riddling its body with orange-and-black searing cuts the same way Jidné did on the one she killed; seeing that she was empty-handed, he quickly twisted the sleeve and separated his lightsabers.

“Here!” he tossed his second saber at Jidné. She caught it, and in a graceful twirl, she’d severed the newcomer cat’s forelegs in a clean, perfectly-timed sweep, killing it in the process.

The alpha backed away, leaned its head back and produced an ear-shattering roar—so loud, in fact, that Jidné had to duck and shield her one ear with her free hand. Little by little, leaner versions of the animal—which ought to be juveniles learning how to hunt—appear out from their hiding spots upon the call of their pack leader, it’s as if they’ve organized this whole ambush for the sake of finding food—which neither Jidné nor Cal do not exactly plan to be.

The juveniles appeared in all sides around them, they spun while literally back-to-back with one another as they surveyed the jungle clearing, counting the reinforcements with their eyes.

Four of the creatures rejoined their leader on the ground, backs arched, and throat rumbling with threatening growls. The death scent of their two fallen members roused up their senses, baring their teeth in anger at the two assailants.

“Something tells me they’re not here for belly rubs,” Cal jested.

That drew a giggle out of Jidné, “No, I don’t think so!”

Both Jidné and Cal brandished their lightsabers at the large, feral cat-like creatures. One immediately lunged at them, buckling its claws at Cal and pounced on him, trying to rip his throat open—Jidné kicked it away from him and left a diagonal gash across its chest, killing it instantly; the scarred alpha attempts to strike back at her, charging at her at a feral speed, she dodge-rolled it and only managed to scratch its thick, aging hide.

“On your left, ginger!”

Cal took on the two new juveniles on his left, he tossed his saber at one while the other jumped on him—he backed away, dodging the jump attack by a hair and skillfully caught the returning lightsaber, he didn’t spare a second in killing the second. That leaves them with the surviving juvenile and the sturdy alpha, who was still standing strong after being nicked repeatedly by both of these humans. It probably had its last straw and paced cautiously at the two.

The remaining juvenile pounced at Jidné—already exhausted at this whole debacle—and dug its sickle-shaped claws onto her shoulders. The borrowed saber was still in her hand, she angled her wrist so the emitter faces the animal, and with a single press of the button, the blade pierced through one side of the animal’s neck to the other. She rolled it away from her body and brought herself on her knees, catching her breath as she stayed close by her unlikely ally.

The alpha had enough of this, of course. Out of mercy, its lunging attack was seized by Cal who Force-pushed it with an intensity that it resorted to run away into hiding. When the whole ordeal was over, Cal turned to the girl.

“You alright?”

He reached out his hand in front of Jidné, she stared at the hand for one second and then turned to the face of the boy who helped her. She denied that her heart skipped a beat. Cal pulled her up to her feet the moment they joined hands.

“Yeah… just a little shaken,” she dusted off the dirt that stuck on her jacket and removed her cowl to do the same. She remembered that she still had his saber and briskly returned it to him. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

He takes his second saber and conjoins it with the other, “Don’t mention it.”

The awkward silence between was filled in by the insects chirping amongst the woods. BD-1 hopped off of Cal’s shoulder to scan the dead animals and skittered briskly back to him.

“So those cats were called Bashiji, huh? I’ll give it a read later,” he whispered to BD-1, and then cleared his throat, recomposing himself in front of the girl. “Name’s Cal. Kestis. By the way.”

He stretched out hand again at her. Her eyes shifted between Cal—beaming a small yet friendly smile at her—and his hand.

“Jidné. Jidné Sheedra.”

She takes his hand and shakes on it. From her touch, the ripple of the Force that has been lightly nudging at Cal ever since he came in to this planet seemed to have amplified. He gave himself the benefit of the doubt and smiled as he exchanged niceties with Jidné.

“Jidné, I’ll remember that,”

A flustered Jidné attempted to subtly pull her hand away from _her own target_. She awkwardly managed a smile and walked past his shoulder, walking to the foliage where the Bashiji had slapped her saber away. Using the Force, she extended her open hand and the hilt popped out of the pile of leaves where it fell into. She instantly clipped it to her belt the moment it returned to her.

“You’re a Jedi, too?”

 _Well, shit._ Her voice in her mind hissed.

Her stomach sank again just right when it worked its way back up to where it should be. The bridge of her nose crumpled upon realizing that she has no escape from that question, luckily, she had her back turned to Cal when he asked.


	6. Occupational Complications

Jidné tilted her head back, sighing, she turned around to answer Cal right in the face.

“Yeah,” said Jidné, plainly.

She wrapped her cowl around her shoulders after clearing off the dust and leaves that clumped onto it during their skirmish with the Bashiji cats. They exchanged looks, but she kept her distance from him. Cal’s eyes wandered to the girl’s hilt, the two strands of turquoise beads attached to the ring of the pommel’s base stood out from the black and silver color scheme.

A robotic chittering came within their earshot, ID-3 appeared from the branches where he was hiding the whole time. Alarmed by the sight of a probe droid, Cal reignited his saber and pointed it at the black hovering disc of a droid.

“No, no, no—wait! He’s mine!” Jidné put herself between ID-3 and Cal who had his saber at the ready, who only looked at the Imperial probe droid by face value.

“He’s mine,” she repeated, more calmly this time.

Cal stopped at Jidné’s behest, he looked over her shoulder and saw the droid was hiding behind her back, its single red lens for an eye peeked over her hair.

Confused, Cal pulled his eyebrows together, “That Imperial probe droid is _yours_?”

“I reprogrammed him, and he’s with me,” she explained. She turned to the shuddering black disc hiding behind her shoulders. “It’s okay, ID-3, they won’t hurt us.”

Now standing much closer, she got a good long look at him. The sunlight that pored through the jungle canopy highlighted of his features for Jidné to see: the freckles that riddled his cheeks like stars to a night sky, the clear emerald shine of his eyes and the soft gaze that he makes with it.

Cal ticked the boxes of the job detail—red hair, a Jedi, and as much as she was too prideful to admit it he is handsome—but there’s no sign of the Holocron on his person. Jidné presumed that he wouldn’t carry it around with him, as people might mistake it for some heftily-priced relic.

He switched his saber off after believing that the probe droid was indeed harmless. ID-3 was still frightened from the sudden stance but quickly warmed up to Cal after spotting little BD-1, to prove that he was good, ID-3 raised one tentacle and waved it as if saying “Hello” both to Cal and BD-1.

“Booo-wooo…” BD-1 cautiously beeped in response. For good measure, he lit up his scanners at ID-3 and his lens panned up and down to get the full picture of the droid. The abrupt change of tone in BD-1 verified that ID-3 wasn’t the Imperial droid he used to be.

“See, he’s harmless!” Jidné insisted.

“Sorry we doubted you, ID,” Cal apologized for both himself and BD-1.

ID-3 accepted the apology, his raspy and monotonous tone somewhat had a cheery chirp in it.

“Oh! You’re hurt,” Cal uttered, spotting blood staining on Jidné’s jacket through the tears of her cowl.

Jidné searched for the injury, the adrenaline practically made her numb from feeling the sting, she only felt it when she slightly flexed her shoulder.

“Oh, crud…” she mumbled.

Cal snapped his fingers and out comes a healing stim from BD-1’s little compartment.

“Here,”

Jidné’s slender fingers picked up the green vial from Cal’s palm. She brought it closer to examine it.

“A healing stim,” she identified. “You have one impressive little droid.”

BD-1 took the compliment and chirped happily. Jidné sucked in some air before injecting herself of the green, soothing substance on the flesh of her upper arm. The substance relieved her of the pain, but she still has to treat the wound.

“Thank you, both of you,”

“You’re welcome, again,” Cal cooed bashfully, hanging his head low so Jidné doesn’t find him blushing.

And then the same awkward silence immediately followed them back.

“So, uh, what are you doing in the middle of the jungle?”

 _Okay, that was bad enough!_ Cal scolded himself in his subconscious.

“I should I ask you the same,” chuckled Jidné.

“W-Well, I was about to take a look around the town there until…”

Jidné bobbed her head, prompting him to continue.

“Until I heard you.” He finished.

“Oh… Well, my hero,” she giggled at her lighthearted yet dry joke. Cal received it as a compliment and awkwardly chuckled along with her.

The silence was getting old between the two of them now—that much they’re certain of. Both youngsters just don’t know how to interact with one another for their own various reasons.

“Listen, Jidné… um…”

“Yes?”

Cal had his tongue tied, he didn’t realize that he was saying things to her out on a whim, he didn’t exactly plan ahead with the conversations that he starts with her. He gulped the lump that’s been stuck in the middle of his throat so he could say the words right.

“You should treat that wound soon,”

Jidné examined her wound again, “Yeah, I suppose I should.”

“Right, err… so… I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” she shrugged her shoulder; in a deadpan tone, she added, “Maybe.”

Jidné watched this endearing, bumbling, ginger Jedi slowly back away into his original path. She remained where she stood until he was out of sight, out of the forest and back into the open—where he planned to be in the first place.

“Good gods, that boy… is a _threat_? To Darth Vader?”

“Trill, beeeee-eeep!” ID-3 chirped teasingly.

The bounty hunter translated the droidspeak, her own droid was teasing her that she must have found him cute.

“Oh shut up, you flying saucer,” she chuckled in great denial.

She began walking in the opposite path, where the wood gradually cleared out; along the way, she found her rifle that the Bashiji had chewed on. She picked the weapon and studied the damage, bite marks have dented the paneling; she flicked the safety and cocked it to see if it would still work.

“Well, so much for that mint condition earlier,” groaned the girl. “Come on, ID. I need to wash off this blood.”

The droid hovered as he followed her along, continuing to tease her in an upbeat string of notes and chirps—which Jidné constantly defended herself from.

“Beee-beeep!”

“You can’t prove I was blushing—you were behind me!”

Eventually, ID-3 finally toned down on the teasing, much to Jidné’s relief. Her trek ended when she spotted the bank of a river that leads to a waterfall on the far right, the crashing was within hearing range and so she decided to go to the main basin.

Stripping off her cowl and jacket, leaving only her black tank top, the claws of the Bashiji have sickled through the fabric and nicked at the corner of her shoulder; had that cat buried its nails into her then it would’ve reached the bone. Jidné soaked her clothes into the shallower part of the water, then scooped up handfuls of water to wash away the dried blood; when the wound had lessened the bleeding, she decided that it would be impractical if she hiked back to her ship to patch herself up.

“Never thought I’d be doing this again,” she mumbled under her breath.

She resorted to using Force healing, albeit was a skill that she’s still learning; in her level, it required her to meditate—compared to her late mentor who did it as simply as breathing, it was one of the things she strived to imitate in terms of mastery. Nonetheless, she sat herself up—back straight, legs crossed together, and her mentality clear. Jidné allowed herself to relax on her grassy seat, her fingers loosened around her kneecaps and took slow, calm breaths—feeling the warmth of the midday sun pinching her cheeks with its rays.

Her surroundings in her consciousness were beginning to blur as she puts her mind into focus. Her senses have softened and keened at the same time—a phenomenon that was instinctive as it was complicated to comprehend to those who are less sensitive, it was something she can’t put into words yet there was a familiarity to it. At first, she managed to reconnect with the Force and gently willed it to the wound—bit by bit, new skin began to seal the damaged flesh; when she sensed that she was succeeding, she strained out of impatience which she mistook for eagerness.

“Come on…!” muttered Jidné almost voicelessly, but the demand in her tone was apparent.

Jidné sensed that the new skin had slowed down in closing the wound, she forced herself just a little bit and she snapped back involuntarily; as consequence, the injury didn’t fully close, a significant portion of it remained fresh and unhealed—perhaps half in size. At least the bleeding stopped.

She examined her wound, patting on the new skin that concealed the rest of the injury. Accepting that she had lost control with her grasp on the Force, she resolved to letting what remains heal naturally; her mind shifted to the thought of Cal. The fact that he’s already met her and identified her as a Jedi—and _not_ a bounty hunter—a strategy came up onto the top of her mind.

“This complicates things, though,” she thought out loud.

She continued to clean the grime, dust, and blood off of herself by the riverbank. Seeing that the forest was devoid of other humans or sentient life forms, she decided to take a dip into the cool water of the waterfall’s basin. The coldness blanketed and soothed every inch of her body, her dark hair swirling underwater; as she swam around, her mind constantly reminded her of Cal—the way he behaved, the way he spoke, but most importantly, his touch.

She brought her hand up from the water to examine it and try to reenact how she took his hand, how he held it, and how they shook each other’s hands. His palm was coarse, no doubt from his line of work, but if Jidné thinks about it—his grasp was so gentle. Water plopped when she jerked it back down, but she can’t stop rubbing her fingers in that hand.

“ _Definitely_ complicates things,” she groaned and submerged her face into the water, bubbles boiled as she exhaled her frustration underwater.

On the other hand, Jidné relished her time alone, bathing in the waterfall—it was a badly-needed cleanse. In the very center of the basin, she attempted to meditate—burying her toes into the silt floor of the stream to anchor herself, her body submerged from the chin down, and letting the coolness blanket her.

“Find it, Jidné,” she coaxes herself. “Latch onto it.”

She repeated this mantra until the sound of the waterfall have hollowed out in her hearing, until the only thing she could feel was her entire body subtly floating within the weak current of the water.

Nothing.

She growled, smacking and pounding the water with her fist, creating fountain-like splashes that rained down on her head. She brought her hands back out of the water again, gazing at her empty hands riddled with water droplets like transparent pearls.

“It’s always like this. I couldn’t be _that_ damaged with the Force, could I?”

ID-3—who was hovering above the water, staying close to her as she swam—answered her question, even though it wasn’t exactly directed to him. He sounded affirming towards his owner, chirping high-pitched, raspy tones at Jidné.

“Thanks, ID, I appreciate that,” she hummed and continued to swim.

After her bath, she put on her clothes and collected her things before proceeding to hike through the jungle, avoiding the denser patches of greenery where Bashiji cats or other predators might jump on her again.

She decided to climb the waterfall’s wall, curious to see where it would lead her. Her little droid clamped itself on the harness’s strap on her back as she climbed. Using the skills she’s gained from her Padawan training back in the day, she scaled the rock wall with little to no equipment—just her iron grip.

“Just don’t look down, ID!”

“Booo-wooooo!!” the droid chirped in a nauseated tone.

The climb led the duo to the mesa, in the same level where she originally came from before landing into the surface of the jungle. From there, she stalked the ridge in search of the Mantis—relying on the homing beacon as she goes. The farther she went, the device’s beeping rhythm became faster until slow beating transitioned into a quick flickering with the noise barely keeping up with the pace.

She places herself on a vantage point, quite higher than her original spot where she first found the ship—atop a boulder’s throw. Zooming in through her binoculars, she scanned the treelines again, hoping to spot that same silver twinkle that she saw prior to this unprecedented predicament. The Mantis stuck out more from her current perspective, she patiently sat there, examining Cal’s companions.

Jidné eventually spotted that particular Lateron that Sorc was talking about. She watched the four-armed gray creature flail his arms while inaudibly conversing with a much older lady wearing beige clothes while a second lady in red and black garments—whom Jidné assumed to be Dathomirian—stood idly to survey the nature around them.

“Completely harmless, I wager,” Jidné commented to herself. “Kinda cranky for his size, though.”

She thumbed the knob on the underside of her binoculars to zoom in some more, she got a closer look of the Mantis and it was clear enough for her to see their faces.

“They’re obviously hiding it inside that ship,”

That fact led to Jidné remembering that her initial plan had been slightly ruined, hence the necessary alterations. With Cal thinking that she was friend not foe, the bounty hunter concocted her Plan B on the spot.

“I guess I have to keep up an act now, huh?”

“Beee. Trill, beep,”

“Figures…” she sighed. “One hell of a contract, eh, ID?”


	7. Comfort in the Midst of Irony

Cal had just gotten back out into the open and found the river that divides the town from the jungle where he came from. He knelt by the bank, scooping up cold freshwater and splashing it into his face, scraping himself clean off the sweat and dirt. He used the last handful of water to comb his scarlet hair using his bare fingers.

He finally crosses the bridge, upon his entrance into the town, he was greeted with the colors spread across from each end of the street, hollers of vendors and haggling buyers rung loud between the walls of the buildings. Stall owners gesture at Cal to at least look at their wares, he politely dismisses them as he passes them by.

“Be careful not to overheat your scanners, BD!” Cal beamed, knowing that the curious little BD-1 is going to scan everything left and right as they go.

“Woop, trill! Chirp.”

“Yeah, this place sure is pretty,”

“Boo! Trill, beep!”

“Oh, you meant Jidné? Yeah, she is kinda pretty,”

Cal wandered off farther into the town, the thought of the Force ripple _and_ Jidné ran tirelessly around his mind. He recalled the nudging sensation that he’s gotten ever since he and the crew landed, then the feeling spiked when he discovered Jidné—more so when she took his hand to help her stand up. The image of her constantly flashed behind his eyes—the shy smile that responded to his awfully awkward one-liners and quips burned into his memory, the melody of her voice, and the way she moved with her lightsaber.

Looking back, he rarely—in fact, _never_ —encountered another Padawan who wielded a purple blade. The only person he knew who did was Master Windu.

Cal found himself into a modest-looking pub, light instrumentals filled the establishment as its patrons chattered amongst themselves over their drinks. He regretted that he didn’t wear the kind of poncho that had a hood; fortunately for him, no one seemed to have noticed the boy come in the bar. Cal scanned the place and saw no sign of Stormtroopers doing patrol, he sighed in relief.

“Something mild,” he orders to the bartender.

While waiting for the bartender to work on it, Cal surveyed the place again—the cantina was filled with so many species that he couldn’t name them all. The humans were also bizarre-looking: cosmetic implants attached to certain parts of their bodies, hair dyed in outlandish colors that match or complement their facial tattoos, with matching makeup on their eyes and lips to boot—especially the women.

The bartender slid Cal’s glass towards him, to which the boy halted the sliding with the cushion of his palm. The first sip was always the strongest one, no matter the alcohol level, a hot sensation seared his palate; he smacked his tongue against the insides of his cheeks until the fizz leaves his mouth. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a Haxion Brood hunter and the HURID droid; before they’d spot him back, Cal slightly angled his body so the back of his head faces them—though it doesn’t help him much because his red hair was the only defining feature they know to identify him.

Cal scooted a bit closer next to a Talz, hoping that the size of the creature would shield him from the hunters’ sights. It worked, but only for a moment. He had to move quick. He left his glass half-empty, slipped a gold credit to the bartender, and attempts to vanish in the pub. Little did he know that the hunters noticed him turn his back to leave the bar; he sensed them following him, so he briskly walked towards the denser crowd to blend in and lose the hunters at the same time.

“There he is!” the human hunter pointed with his bionic hand.

Both hunters shouldered their way through the crowd in the marketplace, especially the HURID droid who practically _plowed_ his way through the people—it’s highly likely that the people he’s shoved and push will have a bruise pop out of them any day after that—meanwhile, Cal was careful in going through the crowd, matching their pace, regretting some more that he didn’t wear the hooded type of poncho.

“Out of my way!” the HURID droid bellowed, pushing away a local who stumbled upon the stall he was browsing at.

Cal picked up his pace while continuously mumbling “Pardon me” and “Excuse me” to the people he shoulders through. When he got into a wide space, enough for him to run, he bolted through the market’s streets—it didn’t take long until he came across another wave of people filling the road. He didn’t slow down for that though, he continued to run, looking over his shoulder from time to time—as consequence, he bumped into a stranger as he ran and they stumbled to the ground together.

From the fall, the cowl revealed its owner to be Jidné.

“Cal?”

“Jidné?”

Jidné groaned as she rubbed the back of her head, Cal’s brain was going haywire—deciding whether to bolt away and miss Jidné or simply hide with her tagging along against her will.

“Where is he!?” the HURID droid roared, drowned amongst the crowd.

There was no time for questions, Cal chose the latter option that his brain made in the last minute. He snatched her wrist as soon as she sat up and dragged her along. They crawled towards a market stall, sitting into a tucked position as their backs hug the wooden planks that make up the kiosk’s wall.

“What’s going on?” Jidné whispered.

“Shh!”

Cal braced her with his entire arm, both of them huddled together to the dust—just so they’re in the same height as the short-fenced market stall. Jidné was startled with the entire rough-and-tumble but she immediately knew what Cal was trying to pull.

The stampeding footsteps of the Haxion Brood hunter and his HURID companion approached their spot, they stopped just a few inches past the stall; both the young Jedi and the bounty hunter stuck their backs against the wooden planks more—both youngsters were frozen in place as they couldn’t look away from their pursuers, Jidné’s eyes fixed on the two goons, the human hunter was scanning the area. Not waiting for that hunter to turn his head to their direction, Jidné clutched for Cal’s arm on her shoulder and then put all of her focus on using her ability.

“What was that?!” the hunter snarled, abruptly twirling to face Jidné and Cal’s general direction.

Cal’s felt his heart fall to his feet when he met eyes with the hunter, but it occurred to him that the hunter apparently _cannot_ see them. He swears that he’s face-to-face with the Brood hunter right now! The hunter is literally one step away from him, he shuddered at how close he is with the enemy but the Brood agent isn’t doing anything.

Cal looked to his side and saw the steely expression in Jidné’s face, he felt her hand around his, she afforded a quick side-eye as she caught him staring at her—he was beginning to grasp that she was doing _this_.

“You see ‘im, Fazer?” asked the bruiser droid.

The human hunter, Fazer, squinted his eyes and panned that one _empty_ nook right beside the market stall.

“Argh! Nah, probably just a vermin or somethin’ I heard,” he grumbled.

“He must’ve went that way!” the droid pointed to their direction up ahead and then darted through.

Soon the footsteps receded, Jidné didn’t remove her hand from Cal’s until there was no sight of that pair. She scrambled to her feet, still crouched to the same level as the market stalls, and then peeked out into the street while ignoring the startled locals looking between them and the two hunters running ahead.

“I think they’re gone,” she turned around to Cal, still seated on the dust, mouth gaped open as he still tried to comprehend what happened seconds ago.

“How did…?” he mumbled. It was so quiet that Jidné didn’t hear it as she checked out their surroundings.

“You seem like you have a knack for attracting trouble.”

“Yeah well, there’s a bounty on my head for being a Jedi. The group that’s after me isn’t exactly the friendliest bunch,”

Jidné bit her lip. The whole thing is so uncanny that it hurt her on the inside.

“Right,” she hummed as casually as she could.

When the coast was truly clear, Cal brought himself up his feet and dusted off the yellow sand that clumped on his jacket and pants.

“Sorry, I kinda dragged you in there for a moment,”

“Wait, did you think those Haxion goons were gonna come after me too—that’s why you pulled me in with you?”

“Yeah, I…” Cal was patting off the dust from his sleeve until it occurred to him, he jerked his head to face Jidné. “Wait. How’d you know they were Haxion?”

 _Oh fuck!_ Jidné’s conscience screamed so loud that her mouth nearly replicated the words.

“I had my own run-ins with them,” she shrugged her shoulders. She nodded at the alley on her left. “Come on, this way should be safer. Less open, more hidden.”

Jidné led Cal into the narrow annex of the main road, doors lined the walls—assuming that this was another residential area that sits behind the business establishments—and worked their way out of the crowded part of town.

“You got yourself into a bar fight or something?” Jidné blurted.

“No, I was just out to get a drink until I spotted them—I guess they spotted _me_ when I was about to leave,”

“Sounds like you haven’t truly mastered the art of subtlety,” she clapped back.

“Hold on,” he pressed. “What was _that_ just now?”

“The what?”

“ _That!_ ” Cal gestures at the space behind him, but Jidné knew what he exactly meant. “You saw the hunter, he was literally right in front of us! But… he didn’t see us? That couldn’t be me—I’m sure as hell that that’s not me!”

Jidné was calm, completely the opposite definition of Cal’s hysteria. She sighed. There’s no escape for her with these kinds of questions again.

“I don’t think this is the best place to explain, don’t you think so too?” quipped the young hunter.

Cal surveyed the area, residents standing outside their homes—for reasons unknown—and children playing in the narrow annex with their balls and playthings laid out on the road. Some of the folks have already noticed the two of them standing awkwardly together by the wall.

“Alright, I suppose you lead the way then?”

“Just stay close,” she sternly instructed.

——————————————————–

The intricate network of roads, annexes, and alleys in the town of Ombari was confusing, but if one knew the landmarks and kept it in mind, then it would be easier to navigate through the town. Jidné and Cal passed through some intersections here and there, they were looking for a spot that wasn’t too crowded—a few people wouldn’t be a bother, Jidné only preferred to have less people around and Cal concurred with that.

Cal kept his questions to himself. As they go along, more and more questions pile up in his mind—particularly, questions about Jidné herself.

They found themselves in the base of the hill where the town was situated. There were more small-time businesses lining up the path just right in front of the main entrance, but farmers and tillers mostly resided at the stretch of landed where they had plotted their modest farms and vegetable gardens. Their harvests were already in display for those who wanted to buy, they were no different from the vendors in the town proper though—except the noise wasn’t a factor in their part.

“That spot by the riverbank looks okay,” Jidné nodded at her north, gesturing at the river gleaming underneath the afternoon sun.

She and Cal sat on the other side of the river, across the hill where they could observe the farmers till and plow their crops, underneath the shade of the trees that framed along the winding river.

Both of them were getting tired—or perhaps, fed up—with the same old silence that always hung heavily around them, no matter the space in between, it’s always there. Neither of them saw it a sign for either of them to start a conversation.

“So, about what happened back in the marketplace?” Cal prompted.

Jidné exhaled and prepared herself.

“Can you like… _cloak_ anything or anyone?” he added.

“When you put it that way, yeah,” she looked at him in the eye, then her eyes wandered to her own hands. “At first, it was simply just activating and deactivating it—in a way—it was hard for little ol’ me that time. I was fresh out of the Initiate Trials back then.”

Cal didn’t avert his gaze from Jidné, he shifted between examining her hands and then to her whenever she spoke.

“But now that I’m older—even back then when I was still a Padawan—I learned how to wield it better. I can manipulate how transparent I want things or people to appear, whether they’d be as thin as smoke or as invisible as the air we breathe.”

“Do you really need to touch in order to make things almost or completely invisible?”

Jidné clenched her fist, “It makes it easier for me if I do, and the area of effect varies too. Not touching them but still focusing on my target can have them be under the influence of my Force Shroud, but only for a time. Whereas being in physical contact, it’s the same—except twice or thrice as better. It all boils down to a matter of distance, really.”

He let all of that information sink into him, trying to grasp how Jidné’s Force ability worked. It wasn’t difficult to understand, though he could imagine the possibilities if one could master such a power.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of another Jedi with an ability like that,”

“My master thought the same thing,” her tone became more somber at the memory.

Cal’s next question might be one of the most personal ones, but he had a feeling that his master might have known hers. Regardless, he put that question for another time—he figured it might have been a topic too heavy for her, considering that she was also a Jedi who must’ve lost everything.

And lost everything she did.

“So, you got anything special in you too, ginger?” she initiated.

Instead of using words, Cal searched for a target—any target. He spotted a pile of shards from earthenware that beached onto the shore of the river, hidden well between the reeds; he scooted closer to the shard pile and hovered his hand over it. Jidné watched and she could feel the slight ripple send out a weak shockwave and a gust of wind.

“These pots were used by farmers to ferment the grain and wheat into some kind of liquid. They collected water to continue the fermentation process, but some wild animals jumped on them and broke them,” Cal explained.

Impressed, Jidné flicked her eyebrows up at Cal, who seemed proud of his little demonstration and proved it with a smirk across his lips.

“I think I’ve read about a power like that a long time ago. You touch an object and you get a glimpse of its past… A Force Echo.”

“Exactly,”

“Interesting,” she hummed, a smile involuntarily curled along her lips.

For a moment, Jidné forgot that she was a bounty hunter. The feeling of having someone to connect with something familiar from a distant past was intoxicating. She and Cal continued to banter about topics that weren’t exactly correlated with one another—for instance, their own droids.

Jidné told Cal the story of finding ID-3 in a disposal bin. She was expertly vague in leaving out some details that could go unnoticed. She recalled the time when she took a look at ID, he was apparently still in tiptop shape—all he needed was a circuit wire replacement and a good power recharge.

“The poor thing wasn’t exactly given the right attention,” Jidné cooed, petting ID-3’s flat-topped head. “So I patched him and now he’s mine!”

“What else did you do to ID-3?”

“Oh, just added some little perks and tweaks that might come in handy sooner or later. The little saucer never failed me so far,”

The black droid chirped happily, absorbing all of the compliments that poured out of Jidné’s mouth and she truly meant them.

Cal and Jidné whiled away the afternoon bantering some more and letting their droids get to know with one another. This was one of the rare moments where Jidné allowed herself to let loose—although the moment was lighthearted and happy, she couldn’t ignore the irony that gleamed blindingly in front of her face: the irony that such comfort is coming from the _exact_ person that she is hunting down.


	8. Hazy Clairvoyance

The afternoon turned into dusk, deep indigo had begun to eat away at the golden shine of the sunset in the sky. The farmers and vendors gathered their harvest to be put away, and then be put back on display for tomorrow. Jidné saw the sun sink behind the mountain ridges and the treelines.

Eventually, they had to go their separate ways that day as dusk was beginning to fall upon Ombari.

“You staying in a lodge?”

“No, I have my ship but it’s in the outskirts—the badlands, they call it,”

“Quite far from where we are. A little dangerous too, animals might jump on you again like last time,”

Cal’s got a point and Jidné didn’t argue with that. She had spotted some relatively larger predators—deadlier than a pack of Bashiji cats—when she landed the Scarab on the badlands. Initially, she thought she could sneak past those creatures if they came close to her ship, albeit she’s hidden it quite well from their sights.

“Don’t worry, Cal, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” chuckled Jidné.

“I don’t doubt that,”

“Well, if neither of us want to be dinner for the animals out there, best we mosey on over,”

She scrambled back up to her feet, Cal followed suit shortly after. Jidné went a couple of paces away from Cal to stretch her legs and bask in the remaining sunlight before night falls.

“I guess we’ll see each other again?”

She turned around to face him while answering, “Depends, if you’ve managed to bring the trouble with you to me.”

He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. The sunset’s gradient did him a favor of concealing the burning of his cheeks, but that didn’t escape Jidné’s eagle eyes. An exchange of hushed goodbyes transpired before they parted ways; Cal headed back to the town—going through it would bring him to the other side where he came in, where the Mantis would be—and Jidné would navigate her way to the badlands, returning to the confines of the Crescent Scarab.

Jidné jogged through the forest, stalking and crouching behind the shrubs to shield herself from wandering animals. She climbed over the ridge and the badlands were already in the horizon. She slip down the slope with great care, skidding her boots as brakes while patrolling predators circled their turfs—hissing and roaring at anything that comes close. In the distance, she spots the trench were she had hidden the Scarab, she hoped that nothing or no one has assumed it was abandoned and shredded it to pieces.

“There you are, old girl,” Jidné cooed, relieved to find her metal baby still sitting in one piece.

Home sweet home.

She unwrapped her cowl and untied the jacket around her waist, dumping them on the vacant seat in the lounge area. Immediately, she went to the cramped room of a medical bay and rummaged the cabinets for Bacta. She returned to the lounge with a small vial of Bacta in hand, a pea-sized dollop was potent enough even for the gravest of injuries. A generous drop plopped on the tip of her finger and then rubbed it on the flesh wound on her shoulders.

“That should close by tomorrow,” she diagnosed.

A great sigh escaped Jidné’s lungs, the overall exhaustion for today had constricted her chest that her body realized just now that she’s truly safe. Her back slouched lazily against the leather cushion of the couch, the muscles around her joints eased—as if twisted rope had been loosed from a strenuous grip—and her heavy eyelids fell until darkness blanketed her eyesight.

_Jidné…?_

Her eyes shot up and her heart pounded a loud beat at the same time. At first, her eyes shifted left and right, searching the sound and assuming that she’s hearing things.

_Jidné?_

“That voice…”

_“Come now, my little one…”_

My little one.

She knows that pet name even if she heard it from a parsec away.

She straightened herself on her seat, looked around and saw that she was still inside her ship, ID-3 had put himself to a snooze mode atop the table; she listened for the faceless voice again, its origin was unclear for it echoed as it called her name, but the words were distinct. The voice beckoned her again, it was coming from the other side of the door that separated the lounge from the cockpit.

 _“Come now, little one.”_ The voice repeated.

Jidné could have sworn that the voice could be heard from the other side of the door. Her hand hovered over the door controls, she was hesitating when the silence followed the beckoning, but her eagerness prevailed. A touch of a button did nothing. Jidné pressed the button in five-second intervals for three times, when it didn’t do anything, she dared to look past her shoulder and found herself in a hallway not of her own ship.

Her heat stamped wildly through her chest that her breathing could not keep up. Shallow, rapid breathing was all her lungs could produce. In the farthest end of the hallway, the figure had its back turned but the long, twin tendrils dangled until their thighs—deep indigo patches intricately framed the white montral from top to the bottom.

“Master?”

Jidné clutched at her throat. The voice that uttered was her younger self’s. Her head was swirling as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Master, wait for me!” she strained her vocal chords in an attempt to regain the true sound of her voice.

 _“Don’t delay now, little one. Come, come._ ”

The figure was definitely the owner of that voice, but not once did it turn around to beckon her properly. Not even realizing it, Jidné’s own legs suddenly had a volition of their own, dragging the girl across the metal floor.

“I’m coming, I’m here…!” Jidné cracked, her younger persona taking over her adult body. “Wait for me, please! Master Anesh!”

The waking memory of Jidné’s master continued through a door that gaped open, as if waiting for Jidné to come; when she was halfway there, blaster fire whistled—and out of instinct, Jidné ducked as if to avoid them, but they’re part of the illusion—indistinct yet familiar voices of the clones shouting the order to fire rang ricocheted among the walls.

 _“Jidné, come on now,”_ Master Anesh beckoned again calmly, contrast to the situation that Jidné finds herself in.

The entire experience set Jidné’s body and mentality back to that fateful day years ago. All of her survival instincts were notched to the highest setting; though it wasn’t the graceful elusiveness that she usually uses for her bounty-hunting—it was the desperate, nerve-racking attempt to escape alive that heightens one’s senses. She didn’t realize that tears had begun to well up and dribble down her cheeks, her throat ran dry from the shallow, rapid breathing, and her stomach churned in complete fear.

“MASTER, TAKE COVER!!” shrieked Jidné, it was more of an impulse than a voluntary utterance; her body and consciousness are reliving that horrifying, life-changing scenario.

She continued to run with her back crouched low as the mirage blasters continue to whistle and fire behind her ears. She glances at the sight in front of her, the figure of Master Anesh—back still turned against her—remained sage and stood there idly, without a care in the world.

Jidné threw her entire self to the door, successfully passing through, and rejoining Master Anesh. Quickly, the girl pulled herself back up on her feet; by the time that she did, her master had gone farther from her—so close, yet so far. She forgave that, she just wanted to get closer to the Togruta.

 _“Jidné…”_ beckoned the voice once more, somberly.

The young girl finally caught up to her master. Master Anesh stood taller than Jidné remembered, when she hoisted her hand towards the Togruta’s back, she hesitated and jerked it back—discovering that in this illusion, she had taken over the form of her younger self: a Padawan, a child who still had a lot of ways to learn.

 _“Have you forgotten what I taught you?”_ Master Anesh’s voice sounded stricter, as if dismayed at the little child that stood in front of her.

The girl shakes her head fervently, “No, of course not!”

_“You’re troubled, Jidné. Don’t you remember what I keep telling you?”_

“The Force is in its strongest in one’s emotions and instincts; it resonates with the clearest eyes of the mind,” Jidné recited, surprised at herself that she still remembers it word for word. She jerked her head up to face her master, in search of affirmation from the kindly-faced Togruta.

“Master… I…”

Before Jidné could even finish, tremors ravaged the floor beneath her feet, the lights that paneled the walls flickered until they died, and the beams above their heads were giving away… the entire hallway collapsed—along with Master Anesh standing in it!

“MASTER, NO!!!”

The devastation was so surreal that Jidné felt like she was going to die there. She felt like falling to a deep, ceaseless abyss as her surroundings fully reduced to nothing.

She gasped and sat back up again, only this time in a cold sweat. Her exclamation woke ID-3 from his snooze mode, his tentacles popped out partially and turned into little feet, he stepped to the edge of the table close to Jidné as he asked her well-being.

“Yeah… I’m okay, ID…” she heaved. “Just a bad dream…”

“Woooo…” ID-3 points out the tears staining Jidné’s face. “Beep, trill?”

Jidné wiped her tears with her arm. Her mind was still spewing sparks as it tried to register everything that transpired. She propped her elbows on her knees, her fingers raking through her hair, coaching herself to breathe slower and more relaxed as she realizes that she’s back in reality.

ID-3 hopped from the table to the couch, he tried to squeeze himself into the space behind Jidné’s arms—as if like a pet animal would—and beeped a soft, slow moan of a note. He occupied the entirety of Jidné’s laps, she weakly giggle and wrapped the little disc of a droid in her arms.

“Thanks, ID, I’m _really_ glad you’re here,”

She pulls him in closer to a hug, planting her cheek against the cold dome top of his head. Two of ID’s arms extended and wrapped around her forearms, embracing her back—one of his pincers even patted her to comfort her.

“You’re such a sweet droid, I don’t remember putting an affection chip in your motherboard,” Jidné joked through a sniffle.

When Jidné regained her bearings, she attempted to meditate tonight. It was a slow progress, but she acknowledged every little change she noticed throughout the phase. She stands up from the couch and settled herself on the floor right beside the table.

Legs crossed together, hands on the knees, and an erect back.

Deep breaths.

Closed eyes.

A sharp focus within a calm, sound mind.

_Breathe, Jidné._

To her, she bared everything to the Force—she allowed its flow take over her bloodstreams, its energy rippling its current underneath her skin—her fingers trembled, her nails sank through the fabric of her pants until the flesh of her knees, she has latched onto the Force but she’s struggling to get a hold on it.

Her heart leapt when she felt a soothing sensation blanket her—it was warm and cold at the same time, but still comforting—and then her subconscious reached out as far as the rich expanse of Ombari’s wilderness: the lush green of the trees, the harsh heat in the blood-orange desert, the azure sheen of the waters, the life that resided in all of those things from the largest predator down to the tiniest insect burrowed underneath the soil.

An involuntary smile twitched and curled at the corner of her lip. What a relief, Jidné thought, she had yearned for this kind of result for a long time—and she savored every moment of it. Gradually, the Force allowed her to see beyond the life on the planet. The darkness was replaced with a blurry golden light behind her eyes, hushed and incoherent sounds whispered in her ears, and she’s started to feel sensations—firm yet gentle grips, the natural warmth of one’s skin, the feeling of having one’s eyes gazing fondly at her, and the utterance of her name of a yet-incoherent voice.

With her subconscious, she tried to reach out for the origin—she wanted more of it, thus she allowed herself to be a bit greedy.

“What are you…?” she uttered in a whisper, taking a step closer.

Upon touching the source, dark nothingness returned and befell her eyesight. Her neediness had become her undoing; that soft, warm, comforting feeling disappeared as easily as ash lost in the sand.

Like terrors in the night, nightmarish images rear their ugly heads right in front of her face: agonizing cries of pain, the wild crack of lightning, the sound of a body thudding harshly against the hard ground…

And the foreboding sound of a rhythmic, robotic breathing.

It all felt real, even though Jidné knew that it’s not her who is—or perhaps, _will not—_ experiencing these things.

“Make it stop…!” she yelped, unable to open her eyes and free herself from this trance that’s ensnared her, begging to a non-existent tormentor.

Hissing breaths entered and then left her through the hairline-thin gaps between her teeth, her eyebrows pulled together and her head slightly thrashed—fighting it off while her concentration gradually ebbed. The intensity spilled its way out of her; the interior of the Scarab rumbled, the trinkets and decorations that lined the shelves of the lounge room clattered and shuddered at the whim of Jidné’s Force energy.

“Beeee!” ID-3 lowed in surprise, panicked and unable to do anything except watch his owner lose herself in the trance.

Finally, the glue that kept Jidné’s eyelids shut was gone. The shuddering around her ship vanished as well. Jidné tried to regain her bearings, her eyes surveyed everything around her—she’s still in the ship. She melted to the floor and let all of those emotions and feelings sink into her from the vision of Master Anesh appearing before her until that scenario of her witnessing a torturing that wasn’t hers.

“Beeep, chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’m okay, ID-3…” she panted. She rubbed her entire face, massaging the muscles of her cheeks and forehead. “How stupid of me to meditate when I’m exhausted… So much for trying to fix myself. Damn, what a long day.”


	9. A Sense of Familiarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way overdue ;;A;; sorry for the delay! I had to recover from yesterday's COVID-19 testing. On the bright side, I'm negative from the virus. Yaaay!! :3 Hope you all are staying safe and healthy too. Friendly reminder to wash yours hands ;)

Dawn broke and the badlands met the sun’s rays.

The desert animals poke out of their rustic homes to bask in the first few minutes of sunrise—from the tiniest lizard living inside an animal skull to the apex predators emerging out of their dens.

Cal decided to venture out into the badlands as well, it occurred to him that he had only seen the forest and the town—whose name he learned to be Diitana, thanks to BD-1’s diligent scanning from yesterday; he gave the badlands a try.

“I’m sure it’s not _that_ bad,”

“Beeee!”

The Jedi was careful to avoid the eyes of the hulking beast with a pair of great horns on its head and another on the end of its muzzle, a thin mane wrapped around its leather neck, the skin was color ranges from stone gray to a shade of burgundy that matches with the color of the sand or the unique breed of grass in the region.

These giants eagerly protected their turf and grazed at the same time, letting the females and the young play around within their circle. BD-1 leaned forward and forward, until his legs were at the edge of Cal’s armor straps.

“I know you want a scan, BD, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get close. Those horns look sharp,”

Cal and BD-1 continued their trek, the Jedi had his eyes on the island across the great lake. He squinted his eyes, used his hand as a visor over his brows, and surveyed the distance if it was safe or not. Choosing to walk would take longer as he would go around the road until he reaches the island, swimming wouldn’t be so bad. The water crashed and pulled at his feet, he cautiously dipped his boots into the water to get a feel of the depth; he went further from the shore, then the shallows, and eventually paddled his way through the water.

It wasn’t a long swim, neither was it a short one. He simply kept his eyes on the objective.

The Jedi climbed out of the water and found himself in the island situated in the center of the lake—whose channels branched out and turned into more rivers—the animals that resided there were mere medium-sized vermin, perhaps contesting with the size of the Bog Rats back home in Bogano or the Scazz in Zeffo, but these local animal were completely docile.

“Alright then, I guess you could scan these since it’s safer here… I hope,”

“Wooo-wooop!”

The tiny white droid hopped out of Cal’s shoulders while the boy wrung the water off of his shirt and shook his legs dry. Meanwhile, little BD-1 skittered left and right, ahead and back, flashing his blue scanner lights at anything that won’t jump and attack him for the sake of standing too close. He even managed to scan a skull of the same beast back in the mainland.

“Oh, so that big thing’s called the Uroda,”

“Beee-woop!”

“Yeah, I agree. Best we take a look around, you go on ahead and scan around—just be careful,”

With Cal’s permission, BD-1 scanned whatever and wherever he pleases; meanwhile, the boy explored the islet which was significantly big for one, nevertheless it fascinated him. Something lured Cal and so he brushed his way through a patch of tall reeds, leading to the other side; when he pushed down the grass that was blocking his view, it was too little too late for him to realize that it’s become his undoing.

A Haxion Brood hunter was idling on the other side of the island. He heard the rustling of the reeds and anticipated the Jedi—for all that hunter knew, it could have been an animal, yet he was full of conviction that it was Cal. Before the boy brushed away the grass that draped him for protection, the hunter flicked the safety of his rifle and rested it on his shoulder…

Until Cal found him—or the other way around.

“There ye is, Umah!” the hunter snarled and squeezed the trigger, Cal dodged the shot by an eyelash.

The hunter was accompanied by another human with cybernetic limbs, apparently named Umah, only this time the second one donned a jetpack—making him _extremely_ inconvenient for the boy.

“Aww, too easy to kill, innit, Pavo?!” the second bounty hunter, a rough-voiced female, barked.

With the push of a button, Umah went flying off the ground with her jetpack—literally having the high ground and the advantage, her flight lessened Cal’s odds of winning this skirmish, which somewhat boosted her confidence that she and Pavo would get the bounty for the Jedi.

“We’re not done yet!” Pavo snarled and tossed a flashbomb, he cloaked his eyes with his gauntlet while Umah flew a bit farther from the blast radius.

The din of the skirmish didn’t reach far in the expanse of the badlands, but the faintest sound was enough to alert the right person.

“Beee?” ID-3 inquired after noticing that Jidné paused from gathering desert plants.

“Something doesn’t feel right, ID-3,”

Jidné and ID-3 stared at one another, but she was listening carefully for the sound. The distant echoing of a barrage of blasters made her ears prick up. She lousily stuffed the bushel of plants she’s collected so far and, out of instinct—or perhaps, of impulse—she followed the din of the battle. Jidné hurried to the direction of where the sound was coming from, with every step she took, the louder the sound.

 _I’m close! I’m in the right track!_ The fleet-footed bounty hunter thought to herself, leaving plumes of dust at her footsteps’ wake.

It got louder, every minute. Battle grunts could be heard, explosions of bombs popped in her ears, and the humming of a lightsaber sung hollowly in the empty trenches. She’s now close by the island, she kept her momentum was perfectly constant—instead of swimming, she made stepping stones out of the logs and the rocks sticking out of the water until she’s set foot on the island. She arrived unnoticed.

As Jidné ran, she spotted Umah floating about in her jetpack. There was an inclining boulder at the edge of the island, she brandished her lightsaber as she ran over the rock to gain height in order to reach Umah. While the enemy was unaware, Jidné severed the wing of the jetpack, causing it to immediately malfunction and plummet Umah hard to the dust.

Cal was too focused on Pavo that he didn’t noticed that Umah had been incapacitated until her face skidded across the shore.

“UMAH!!!” a startled Pavo exclaimed.

“Mind if I even out the odds?” Jidné blurted, landing flat on the balls of her feet after her jump attack succeeded.

“Jidné! Am I glad to see you!” Cal quipped back.

Umah brought herself up to her feet, even underneath the overhanging rim of her helmet and the mask that covered half of her face—it doesn’t need much thinking to figure out that her fury against Jidné is through the roof, along with her fatally wounded pride of having her face shoved into the sand.

This display of assertion didn’t intimidate the younger bounty hunter, frankly, it excited her more. With Umah’s eyes glued to her, Cal could keep himself busy with the Pavo fellow.

“I’M GOING TO GUT YOU OPEN AND STICK A FLASHBANG IN YOUR INSIDES!!!” Umah roared.

“Oooh!” Jidné mockingly shuddered at the threat, and then gripped tight around her lightsaber hilt. “That’s imaginative of you—even for a crook!”

With the bounty hunter seething with blinding, reckless rage, Jidné has the upper hand. Umah ditched the jetpack and produced a vibroblade from the holster clipped to her belt; upon seeing the weapon, the Jedi girl positioned herself into a defensive stance—anticipating for Umah to come charging towards her to avenge her damaged ego.

While Jidné’s engaged in melee with Umah, switching between kicks and slashes of the lightsaber; Cal is attempting to get a jab at Pavo, who kept himself safe behind his compact shield that folds into his gauntlet. It was tricky for Cal, but he managed to make his own luck by using his Force abilities. The redheaded Jedi anticipated the moment Pavo was open and vulnerable without his shield, and then inflicted Force slow on the enemy—when that tactic was successful, he didn’t spare a second in dawdling and dashed towards the hunter with an overhead strike.

“Come here, you little shit! I’ll have that pretty face delivered to Sorc!!”

“You can see me through that damn roof on your head, you wench?!”

The taunt did it. Umah raises her vibroblade, both hands on the hilt, and makes a running attack on Jidné; the young girl managed to evade the incoming attack, Umah quickly recovered and twirled around to afford another hit—but Jidné denied it in the blink of an eye. The vibroblade’s glow flickered out for a second against the blinding purple gleam of Jidné’s saber.

Jidné pulled away and immediately followed through with a diagonal slash to finish off Umah. The crook’s body thudded lifelessly on the sand, Jidné’s head jerked to the sound of Cal’s cry of pain—Pavo had knocked him down hard using the shield. Thinking fast, she lobbed her saber at his foot—the only body part unprotected from the shield—and gashed his shin, then mustering all her Force energy, Jidné sent out a powerful push against Pavo and sent him into the water.

Both Jedi caught their breaths, Jidné walked up to Cal and was the one to offer him a helping hand this time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he takes her hand and she pulled him up his feet. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I owe you one after all, from those Bashiji cats the other day,”

“Right,” he nodded, recalling his rescue for her in the jungle.

He absentmindedly fixated his eyes on the girl’s hand and then to her alternately—he recalls the faint ripple of the Force that he sensed the day he landed into Ombari, and that ripple grew until it became stronger the moment he discovered Jidné. There was something unusually warm about her—aside from the fact that she was _also_ once a Padawan and a survivor—Cal simply found it easy to talk to her and that she was easy to be around, despite being someone who carried a similar burden.

At first he thought it was a fluke or a trick, but today otherwise proved it to him. He and Jidné had an uncanny knack of finding each other in the right time—even if they never expected it.

“Um, Cal…”

“Yeah?”

“You can let go of my hand now, pretty sure you can stand without a support,” Jidné weakly chuckled, eyeing on their conjoined hands and then shifting her look back to Cal.

Cal slightly tilted his chin up, his fingers slowly unfurled and his palm slipped away from Jidné’s grasp. He looked away to shield his reddening face from Jidné’s eyes. The boy did all sorts of fiddling across his person just to shake off the awkwardness.

“What brings you here in the badlands?” he initiated, trying to divert her attention from his blushing.

“I was collecting some desert plants and herbs. A vendor in Diitana told me she’d give coin to whoever can bring them to her. And you?”

“Just wanted to take a better look at Ombari,”

Cal walked up to the edge of the island, scooped up a handful of water to splash it on his face; he combed his fiery scarlet locks with his damp fingers as he turned to face Jidné—from her view, the sun perfectly tinged its rays on the sheen of the top of his head, it was like watching fire dance softly. Goosebumps pelted her skin, she could feel them underneath the sleeves of her beige jacket, and the hairs at the back of her neck stood up—her hand impulsively reached for her nape and rubbed it to calm her nerves.

Jidné pensively surveyed the island, “Not bad for an itinerary.”

The two Jedi laughed at the lighthearted joke, they were so caught up with their giggling that they didn’t realize Pavo was still alive. The crook swam upwards, as quietly as possible and caught a glimpse of Cal’s leg; as Pavo neared the surface, his right cybernetic arm clawed its way out of the water and hooked around Cal’s ankle—it all happened within a flash that neither Jedi was able to react against it in time.

“CAL!!” Jidné shrieked, she jumped into the water seconds after Cal was pulled in.

Pavo had his arm wrapped around Cal’s neck, the boy kicked wildly as bubbles foamed out of his nose and mouth while trying to loosen the crook’s arm around his neck. In the blur of the lake’s water, Jidné paddled as fast as she can, apparently Pavo was armed with little turbines on the ankles of his boots to speed up his swimming and she only had her breather on her.

She swam as quickly as she could, her shoulder joints were beginning to ache but she didn’t care, her legs were gradually cramping from the forced paddling until she got closer to them; she pulled in Pavo, who still had Cal in a chokehold, and Cal suddenly headbutted Pavo in the middle of the pull—allowing himself to break free at least a few inches away from the bounty hunter—and then Jidné ignited her saber through Pavo’s chest. The hum of the saber was muffled by the bubbling of the water and she gave a slight push of the body away from her and Cal.

The dead bounty hunter’s arms opened and limped in the water, Cal paddled towards Jidné and gawked at the glowing purple beam—his jade eyes were wide in bewilderment, and then air bubbled plumed out of his mouth, forgetting that he needed to breathe. They both swam to the surface, but Pavo had pulled in Cal so deep that he’s lost most of his breath trying to break free—his hands desperately searched for the breather in his pocket until he found it and attached it to his mouth. His lungs were relieved to finally suck in some air and he was able to keep up with Jidné. Both Jedi sprang out of the water and clutched onto the sand, too tired and heaving to pull themselves up, they dragged their bodies to the shore as they greedily panted for air whilst their droids skittered off of their shoulders to shake off the water that seeped into their bodies.

“How…” Cal gasped. “Your lightsaber… How did you…”

“It’s… ahh…” Jidné heaved, her chest rising and falling. “A modification I made… a long time ago. My master had it too.”

A series of breathing was their only exchange after that.

“Can’t yours work underwater?” she added.

“Nah… doesn’t…”

“I can help you with that,”

Cal turned his head to the side, examining Jidné’s face riddled with water droplets trickling and drawing from her cheekbones and forehead. Tiny rainbows reflected on the beads of water on her skin thanks to the sunlight; he had a glimpse of the silhouette of her profile—the slight parting of her lips, the defined bridge of her nose and the curving scar across her cheekbone.

“You will?”

“Yeah, it’ll come in handy the next time something like that happens to you,” and then Jidné chuckled before uttering her follow-up. “And I won’t be around to save your ass if that happens.”

“Well, I’d rather have you around,”

Jidné shifted her head to her left side, she finds Cal facing up in the sky with his eyes closed as he continues to catch his breath—but his breathing has calmed, the slow rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest disturbed the fabric of his drenched jacket—she spots a little smirk curling at the corner of his mouth that faces her.

Her heart pounded wildly again, so much so that she had to clutch her chest to calm it down—she felt like it would rip through her shirt if it beats any faster. Emotions flooded and then conflicted her with the objective in mind. She bit her lip as she zoned out, staring back at the blue sky hoping to find enlightenment to this confusion—to her dismay, there were only white plumes of clouds hanging above their heads, no answers, no clarity to these feelings that have muddled her ever since she found her sweet, redheaded target.

“Think you could help me modify it today?” asked Cal.

“No problem, but you’re gonna need another crystal,”

“You mean, another _kyber_ crystal?”

Jidné looks at the Cal straight in the eye to prove that she’s not joking and then nodded.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make a cutting trip to Ilum then,”

Cal groaned, Jidné sensed the disdain in his voice. Going there must feel like a chore—a very cold chore.

“Would you like to come with?” he added.

Taken aback by the invitation, her eyes shifted around, quickly thinking of an alternative. She wouldn’t want to leave the Scarab one planet away—she simply couldn’t leave her baby in the middle of nowhere! Even if she activated the cloaking device on the ship, there’s no guarantee that scavengers or animals would bump into it sooner while she’s gone.

“O-Oh, I don’t know, Cal…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna push it on you. We could still meet after I come back from Ilum, _then_ you can help me modify it!”

“Are you always this… optimistic?”

He lightly chuckled, “Well, you’re the second person to say so.”

Eventually, the two arrived at a stalemate whether or not Jidné comes along with him to Ilum. She told him that she couldn’t leave her ship behind—that was hiding amongst the trenches in the badlands—he understood her side, and so there was a compromise.

Jidné ended up being left behind in Ombari.

“Just promise me one thing,”

“What’s that?”

He took both of her hands into his, and gave it a quick shake before speaking.

“Swear you’d wait for me?”

Her heart jumped. She blinked which prompted Cal to reiterate, constantly assuring her that Ombari was close by Ilum’s system.

“I promise it won’t take much time, so long as you promise me you’d wait for me and you’ll help me,”

His eager, emerald eyes shone brightly right in front of Jidné’s dark, earthen eyes. She can feel his fingers caging her knuckles tighter by the second, she never thought she’d find herself lost in his eyes and that kind, innocent smile. She could feel her heart sinking down and joining her butterfly-filled stomach.

She sighed and pursed her lips, “Okay. I’ll see you soon, then.”

His hands gently clutched her arms and exclaimed happily in reaction to her reply. As a matter of fact, it startled her, but she’s still too prideful to admit that it felt nice. Once again, she felt _genuinely_ wanted or needed—not because they want her to get rid of a target, but for honest reasons such as Cal’s. It almost made her tear up, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this way.

Jidné almost didn’t want Cal to let go—he didn’t want to admit it, rather he was too bashful to say so—but he did, she sensed the hesitation in his withdrawal and compensated with an awkward bidding of goodbye.

Cal searched for a way out of the island, and then he turned to Jidné as if asking for a hint. She pointed at the same path she took when she got to the island.

“Just a hop, skip, and a jump there, ginger.”

“Thanks, Jidné.”

“You’re welcome… Cal.”

The young bounty hunter watched the boy cross the logs and stepping stones across the river until he landed on the other side and then disappeared out of the badlands.

 _Oh… Oh joy…_ the voice in her head groaned.

“Trill, beee!” ID-3 sang in high-pitched notes.

“Ha-ha, real cute, ID-3,”

ID-3 argued with his owner, further insinuating that Jidné is starting to get “attached” to Cal. The droid went as far as using the “Attachments are forbidden to the Jedi” card.

“Whoa, whoa, since when did you pick that up, lil’ guy!?”

“Beee-beep, chirp!”

“Have you been scanning my journals?”

The guilty droid lowed a soft chirp, Jidné chuckled and patted his head, reassuring him that she’s not angry with him, but could’ve just asked her to lay out all her manifests for him to expand his databank. Meanwhile, the conflict within her continues to swirl like a storm—her feelings battled with her sense of duty. As she watched Cal’s figure shrink the farther he goes, all she could think about is the warmth that she gets from him during their interactions and it always drew a little smile out of her.


	10. Unread Pages of an Open Book

Jidné checks her homing beacon, the blue light’s brightness weakened and the beating slowed down, signaling the Mantis’s departure from Ombari. She’s climbed up to the mesas of the badlands, situating herself at a vantage point, a silhouette of a ship flying away from the planet caught the corner of her eye.

“May the Force be with you,” she uttered, supposedly for Cal, but the humid wind carried her words into its nothingness.

Cal surely made true to his promise. In a newfound sense of adrenaline and determination, he skimmed through the temple in Ilum, easily cutting through the enemies lurking there until he could find a second kyber crystal for the waterproofing modification. Despite his child-like excitement, he kept in mind to be patient for the call of the kyber.

“Beee, chirp trill!” BD-1 initiated as Cal had found his way into another part of the cave that he’d not been in last time.

“Jidné? What do I think of her?”

The little droid perched on the boy’s shoulder sang a string of whistles and beeps, conveying his own thoughts on the girl—Cal roughly translated it to somewhere along the lines of “I really like her! Kind of her to help us out!”

“Yeah, buddy, I like her too,” the redheaded Jedi concurred, as he punched a wall of ice with his climbing claws.

By the time Cal had arrived to Ombari, it was already afternoon and the sun blazed its strongest at that hour—compared to the morning blizzard that welcomed him back in Ilum. Jidné was alerted of his arrival when the homing beacon returned to its usual constant state—the light grew bright and the rhythmic beeping became livelier again.

“Cal,” Jidné uttered while staring at the blue glowing circle sitting on the palm of her hand.

Meanwhile, back in the Mantis, Cere—as well as the rest of the crew—had been noticing Cal’s new eagerness of things. In a Jedi’s perspective, she wasn’t surprised to learn that Cal wanted to have his saber modified into a waterproof design, though it intrigued her on _where_ he was getting such ideas. The better question being: _who_ gave him these ideas?

Cere watched the boy frisk his entire person to see if he still had his handy tools on him, Cal barely paid attention or responded to anything the older woman has to say—not out of rudeness, but simply out of haste.

“Cal, a word, please?”

That request seemed to have paused Cal from checking himself for the third time in a row.

“Something up?”

“It looks like Ombari has a lot to offer you,”

Cal scoffed, slightly puzzled, “Heh. Erm… I guess? I mean, it’s a quaint town—nice locals, good food, Greez might like the marketplace for a change.”

Cere gave up with the subtexts and went straight to her point.

“You seem like you found someone interesting,” she implied.

“Yeah, I suppose I did,”

The woman bobbed her head to the side, prompting Cal to elaborate on his new acquaintance. Cal told Cere—along with Greez and Merrin—about Jidné. He introduced her to them verbally as a fellow Jedi, he narrated their first meeting in the jungle when he helped her out with the pack of Bashiji cats, followed by the hot pursuit of the bounty hunters—he added her Force ability as well, which piqued Cere’s interest in the same fashion as Cordova would—and their skirmish with another pair of Haxion Brood bounty hunters earlier this morning.

When asked on who her mentor was, Cal couldn’t answer. Instead, he reasoned that he hasn’t exactly brought up that topic yet as it might make Jidné uncomfortable.

“Well, you’ll get to meet her soon… I hope,”

However, Cere’s next query would pause him from what he’s doing and stop him in his tracks.

“Do you trust her?”

There was a split second’s worth of silence from Cal’s end. His eyes shifted from Cere to the floor, panning the interior of the Mantis for the right words.

“Of course, I do,”

“Off to meet her, I see?”

“Yeah, she promised to help me modify this,” he waved his saber hilt in his hand as he headed out.

Cere watched the redheaded boy leave the ship and disappear into the forest. Merrin approached and stood by the woman’s side, watching the now-empty view of the forest where they’re landed in.

“Do you think that girl can sense his… _fondness_ of her?”

The former Jedi chuckled with her arms crossed, “If there’s one thing Cal is bad at: it’s hiding his emotions and being so… direct. Alright, now make that _two_ things.”

“I strongly agree,” the Nightsister parroted Cere’s posture, now both ladies watch the silhouette of the smitten boy shrink into the distance.

Cal made his way to the badlands, even if he and Jidné didn’t exactly agree where they’d meet once he comes back, he simply followed his instincts—which were strongly sure that she’d be around there. He pulled up the hood of his beige poncho, protecting himself as he trekked under the blaze of high noon.

The boy and his droid stood underneath a withering tree whose branches were thick enough to cast a shadow to shield them from the heat. BD-1 gave Cal a lead by scanning a sampling of the plant Jidné traded to the vendor.

“Chirp, trill. Bee!”

“Puffreeds,” Cal translates. “This is what Jidné had in her hands earlier.”

Following the river had brought him to the other side of the lake—away from the island where he and Jidné fought off the Haxion Brood hunters—and searched for puffreeds.

From Cal’s back, Jidné appears out of nowhere. She quietly comes into Cal’s vicinity and watched him survey the area as if searching for someone. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he spun around a bit too strongly that he lost his left foot’s balance when he faced Jidné, the little blunder drew out a giggle from the girl.

“Hello there,” she greeted casually.

“I figured I’d find you here,” Cal straightened himself up and tugged the hem of his shirt that crumpled underneath his armor in front of the girl.

“Did you now?” cooed an amused Jidné.

“Of course,” he cleared his throat. “I got the kyber crystal. I didn’t wanna make you wait.”

“I’ve told you that I don’t mind waiting. But,” she sighed, then flopped her arms to her sides. “I kept my promise: I waited.”

A smile curled along Cal’s lips, he fished out the new kyber crystal from his pocket as he approached Jidné; he cupped her hands and let her cradle the kyber in the palm of her hand. It fits perfectly at the center of her palm, she slightly angled her hand to let it roll up and down.

“Just the perfect size. You ready to fix this in?” she beamed as she continued to study the clear, flawless crystal.

“I was hoping that you don’t mind if we do it in our ship,” Cal gazed at her fondly, almost as if he’s pleading her to come with this time.

Jidné found the allure of Cal’s eyes, only to realize that he was standing a little bit _too_ close; she bit her lip, her genuine smile was quickly replaced with an anxious one as she contemplated on her response.

“Sure, why not?”

 _Why did I say that!?_ She scolded herself in her mind.

“Great! Come on!”

Cal snatched her hand, she had returned the tiny crystal to him before letting him drag her towards the direction of the Mantis. They jogged across the badlands, they kept running even though they’re both out of breath. With her free hand, Jidné concealed her homing beacon into the back of her belt—the beeping pace become more rapid, she hoped that it wasn’t loud enough to reach Cal’s earshot.

The silver fin that she first spotted only through her binoculars grew in size as they got closer. The trees that blocked her view once now revealed it before her behind their wide trunks. The exit ramp unfurled when its motion sensors picked up Cal’s presence and he invited her into the ship. Cal found the three gathered around the dining table.

“Jidné, this is everyone—Cere, Merrin, and Greez! Everyone, this is Jidné,”

During his introduction, the three of them moved away from the table and gravitated towards the girl—who shyly raised her hand and weakly waved at them.

Her voice was almost a whisper, “Hi.”

Greez pointed at the girl, “What’s that? That’s a probe droid behind her! You brought an Imp?!”

Jidné—and ID-3—were startled by the Lateron’s exclamation that she didn’t act fast enough to explain.

“ _That_ is ID-3, he’s reprogrammed and he’s with her,” Cal explained.

“Ugh!” Greez clutched his chest with his two right hands. “For a second there, I thought you blatantly brought the enemy to us!”

“Don’t worry, I trained ID-3 not to alert the Imperials until I say so,” Jidné joked. “Don’t you, ID-3?”

The hovering droid beeped, playing along with his owner, of course. When the girl and her droid saw the Lateron’s next reaction, she quickly followed up that she was kidding—reassuring the gray creature that ID-3 is completely out of Imperial commission, thus sparing him from a cardiac arrest.

Cere’s eyes examined the girl from head to toe, she smirked in a teasing manner as she rolled her eyes to the side—to Cal.

“So, you must be _the_ girl that Cal keeps talking about,” the older woman blurted.

Jidné turned her head to Cal for confirmation, his beaming grin subsequently reduced into just a display of his clenched teeth. His initial reaction warranted a single, small chuckle from Jidné, not even Merrin covering her mouth with her hand spared her from releasing a nasal chuckle.

“Right, well, if you’ll excuse us: we have some modifications to do,” Cal stood behind Jidné, clasped his hands over her shoulders, and then shepherded her into the engine room until Cere stopped them in their tracks.

“What modifications?”

“Waterproofing a lightsaber,” Jidné directly answered on both of their behalf.

Cere’s smile melted as well, that sentence was enough a stimuli to bring memories of her prime into mind.

The mood went from jolly to somber. The three of them were reminded of _that_ day; however, Cere was particularly interested with the girl’s knowledge of the lightsaber modification.

“W-Where…? How did you—?”

“My master,” Jidné politely cuts in her reply. “She taught me how. Though, I know she learned it from another Jedi—at least, through _his_ Holocron.”

“Master Fisto,” the woman uttered out of memory’s impulse, her head hung low and scanned the floor. Shortly after, she faced the girl again. “Who was your master?”

Jidné took a deep breath, it’s been a while since she uttered her late master’s name. She puffed out her chest, it was her way of honoring her master, even at the mere mention of her name.

“Her name is Nomara Anesh,” her expression stiffened at the sight of Cere gasping as a reaction. “Do you know her?”

“Yes,” Cere breathed. “She was a Seeker, too. Like me.”

A silence loomed around the ship that only the hum of the air through the ventilation shafts spoke.

“I’m sorry,” there was a heaviness in Cere’s delivery of that very small phrase, though those words carried a great burden for everyone who’s experienced what they have experienced.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. None of us kind of knew what was coming,” Jidné somberly replied.

“Then perhaps _that_ was our fault,”

“Perhaps…”

Cal spared Jidné from further gloom, he kept his hands on her shoulders and gently escorted her into the engine room until he’s shown her the workbench.

“Jidné, are you alright?”

She sniffled, “Yeah, I’m okay. They seem nice.”

“They like you alright,”

The two youngsters traded glances and awkward chuckles, which seemed to be a constant in their interactions—as well as the bashful smiles that they miserably fail to hide from one another just by looking the other way. Jidné began her instruction; she went out of her way to open the hilt of her saber until Cal is shown of the cross-section to see what goes where.

“Now since you got a dual saber, we’re gonna have to halve the crystal,”

“So that’s why you said it was the perfect size,”

Using the Force, Cal carefully meditates on the crystal until it neatly split into half; afterwards, Jidné coached him on the rearrangement of the parts to give way for the second crystal to make the modification work. To lighten up the mood, Cal bantered with Jidné as they worked, bringing up topics and questions initially revolving around the modification; the Jedi girl switched between replies, her own questions, and actual instructions.

“Did you go with the other kids who were about to have their Gathering?”

She shakes her head, “Not really. My master and I flew to Ilum, but I went through the caves by myself. Did you knew about this back then?”

“I’ve heard from the masters, I even asked _my_ master if I could modify mine,”

“Did he allow you?”

“Yeah, he once promised me that…”

Jidné paused from tinkering, hinting at Cal who trailed off in his words and watched his expression soften, apparently reminiscing that exact scenario in his head.

“He promised that once we were done with a campaign we’re in, he’d help me with my saber,” he scoffed, Jidné sensed contempt or perhaps regret. “It never happened.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay, Jidné,”

“Good to know,” she blinked and focused her attention back to his opened lightsaber. “Um… see that space below the energy channels? That’s where we’re gonna put the secondary crystal’s chamber.”

Cal grunted, “The copper wires bounce off even if I press them.”

“Here,” Jidné pressed down the ends of the wires with her fingernails. She managed to crack a joke. “Don’t try to shock my fingers with your soldering gun now!”

The boy chuckled, and then winked.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

All of a sudden, the trauma and the memories seem lighter to talk about—like a badly needed heart-to-heart with someone who _truly_ understands.

It took them less than a few hours to finish. Never have they ever been _this_ close with each other—physically speaking. Their fingers brushed together when one helped the other with a certain part, their foreheads literally touched whenever Jidné would point at a tiny portion of the saber and Cal had to lean closer. Keeping their eyes on the saber distracted one from catching a glimpse of the other.

When Cal ignited his saber for testing, it was nothing special, the true quality check lies literally in the waters. Jidné had her arms crossed while leaning against the bannister of the engine hatch as she watched Cal study his saber even though the changes were internal, she nodded her head sideways, pointing at the door.

“Shall we mosey on over to test it?”

“Let’s,”

Jidné excused herself and headed out first, as she got out of Cal’s room, she took a breather and massaged her cheeks, she felt the warmth on her face and simply brushed it off as the heat that the engine radiated. From the dining table, she wandered to the lounge after the galley, it was a scene of leftover leisure: the hallikset rested on the middle corner of the sofa and a small potted plant sat on the center of the table. But something more interesting than a guitar and a plant caught the corner of her pretty eye…

A small pile of green, crystalline shards scattered on the floor, sitting at the foot of the table.

Jidné’s head panned discreetly but briskly around the ship, she knelt down and picked up the biggest shard she could find. She brought it closer to her face for examination, the texture was familiar but she only had a foundationless assumption.

Her shoulders jumped when she heard Cal call her name and his footsteps approach. She tucked the shard into her jacket’s inner pocket before he could appear out of his bedroom.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, and you?” Jidné shifted back to her calm demeanor.

“Come on then,”

Jidné felt her lungs constrict while she followed Cal in the lead. They were so indulged with fixing up his saber that they didn’t realize they’d reached dusk. The girl was immensely fascinated at how the painted sky gleamed in front of the setting sun; she kept her head up as they hiked through the forest, staring at the colored clouds as they go along.

“Jidné, over here,” Cal beckoned.

Both of them found a water hole that ended the line of the stream, the pair knelt by the bank and Cal unclipped his saber from his belt.

“Go on,”

Cal hesitated to dip the hilt into the water. He coaxed himself with deep breaths and pivoted his elbow so the emitter faces downwards. The saber in his hand sank into the water until his forearm was submerged. His thumb pressed the switch and the blade hissed out; bubbles foamed and rose to the surface when the rod of light flashed underwater—both youngsters had their jaws dropped open, initially startled at the bubbles, and then they retained their stiff postures until it occurred to them that it worked. Their eyes met and exhaled laughs blew out of their rounded mouths.

The boy hoisted his saber—blade still ignited—out of the water; he gave it a slow, gentle swing and it was functioning as it normally would. Their modification was a success!

“It worked…” Jidné uttered.

“It worked!!” Cal parroted, only louder and more celebratory in tone.

A bottle full of laughter was released from their bellies, but Cal’s was louder.

“We did it!!” the boy exclaimed in a child-like radiance, taking her hands into his and giving it a tight squeeze.

He had his eyes stuck to hers, looking into the earthy brown irises where the sunset’s light reflected. He absentmindedly smiled, her small hands still caged within his gentle grasp. When Cal snapped back to reality, he pulled his hands away from hers slowly and cleared his throat—once again failing to recompose himself after acting like a child in front of Jidné, as a matter of fact, she was endeared whenever he does that.

“I seriously could not thank you enough,”

“It’s nothing, Cal, really,”

A pause. Cal took the time to study Jidné’s features better; he could feel himself closing in, but not of his own volition, it seemed like his body was controlling him instead of the other way around. Only an inch stood between his lips and Jidné’s, the girl could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop. The deed was hindered by a hand on Cal’s chest.

Jidné bit her lip and spoke in a hush, “I should go. It’s getting late.”

She could feel Cal’s chest pull away from her fingertips.

“Right…” he murmured. The distance between them grew.

“So, I’ll see you around—like always?”

She flashed a coy smile, “You always seem to have a way of finding me.”

“Or _you_ finding _me_ ,”

Jidné chuckled as she stood up, dusting the soil and grass that stuck to her clothes.

“Good night, Cal.”

“Good night, Jidné.”

 _What was I thinking!?_ Jidné screamed in her mind as she sprinted through the badlands on the way back to the Scarab.

_You are such an idiot, Jidné Sheedra!! IDIOT!!_

Even if she scolded herself as harshly as the biting cold that blanketed the desert in the evening, she found herself in wheezing giggles—confusing her lungs between catching air to breathe or to laugh—her speed fluctuated as she brought her hand to her lips and regained speed when she put it back down.

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hell of an idiot!!” she screamed gleefully in the expanse of the empty desert.

The animals, the plants, and the nocturnal birds circling the evening sky bear witness to Jidné’s proclamation.


	11. Innocence, Lost and Found

Whether or not Jidné knew, Cal heard her squeals’ echoes in the distance as she sprinted away. He smiled to himself, even after her sound had died down. He could’ve sworn he felt his heart slow down and then make the biggest thump that he thought it’d burst right through his ribs. He clutched his chest where Jidné’s hand lay just mere minutes ago.

Cal let out a sigh and threw himself backwards to the soil, a bed of grass cushioned his fall and now he’s facing up at the first stars of the evening sky. He used his hands as a pillow for his head while BD-1 snuggles to his side.

“Beee, trill?”

“Yeah, BD-1… I feel great!” Cal laughed.

He stared up at the stars and counted them silently; however, the longer he stared, the more he remembered Jidné and everything the two of them did together. The faintness of her shy giggles lingered behind his ears, parts of his skin where Jidné had touched burned and tingled; he intentionally kept his eyes closed after blinking to reimagine those dark, soulful irises staring back at him accompanied by the coy smile that curled along her lips.

His free hand cupped his mouth as he remained lying on the grass, fantasizing of the kiss that almost was; more stars and fleeting comets riddled the deep blue sky, silver plumes of clouds loomed in front of the platinum moon. He exhaled nasally and closed his eyes again, his mind replayed the moments of their interactions these past few days. His mind repeated the last thing Jidné said before she said good night and left.

_“You always seem to have a way of finding me,”_

That sentence circled his mind the whole night and reminisced the moments where they found each other in the uncanny of timings—it all began when he followed the sound of her voice, ever since then, he always stumbles his way to her and he’ll be greeted with the same warmth from the same, kind smile. Over and over, his head replayed the image of her—in every angle, in every silhouette, and in every light; his fingers slowly curled inward upon the fantasy of feeling her tiny hands nestled between his roughened hands and the way she held his hand to use her Force Shroud on both of them when escaping the bounty hunters who chased him in Diitana.

Cal wondered if the Force had willed the two of them to meet. He wished that the Force would speak in words to tell him straight in the face—or at least send a sign, even if technically that’s not how the Force works.

His hand wandered to his chest again, feeling for his racing heartbeat and clutching the fabric of his jacket to calm down the swirling storm within his ribcage. He coaxed himself to stand up and return to the Mantis, when he did come back, he was greeted with teasing glares from the crew.

“Well, you seem to be in high spirits at such an untimely hour,”

“Is that bad?”

Cere shook her head while smiling, she mouthed “No.”

The redheaded Jedi slept through the night with butterflies in his stomach and a smile he couldn’t completely wipe off of his face even if he wanted to.

Jidné had returned to the confinement of the Scarab. ID-3 hopped out of her shoulder and hovered about, meanwhile she pressed her back against the cold metal door as she caught her breath—parched and wheezing from the panting and the in-between giggles to herself.

She patted the body of her jacket and remembered the shard she picked up back in the Mantis. She fished it out of her pocket and held the shard between her fingers.

“ID-3, can you analyze, please?”

The droid obliged, a small tray slid open from its body where Jidné gingerly dropped the shard in, ID-3 hovered to the computer along the walls of the lounge and plugged in his port connector. An image of the shard larger than its actual size appeared as a projection, inscriptions and panels of information flashed on the screen—attempting to decipher what this shard had when it was still whole was a bit of a stretch, but Jidné’s resourcefulness as a bounty hunter came into play.

“Beeep, chirp?”

“This shard could be only the shell part; but it’s sizable, it could be part of the core—then the contents would still be intact… some of them though,” Jidné thought out loud, nipping the tip of her thumb as she pondered. “But what if I could…?”

The words trailed off, but the idea remained. She debated against herself regarding the reality of her idea.

“Trill, beee?” ID-3 inquired, noticing the apparent silence from his owner.

“Would meditating even work…?”

Nonetheless, she gave it a try. ID-3 relinquished the shard out of his compartment and handed it over to Jidné. For the rest of the night, in the solace of her bedroom, she meditated deeply on that little emerald shard not bigger than Cal’s second kyber crystal. Behind her eyes, she could see a map of sorts, she recognizes the planets on them but got confused when she found two planets of two different systems near each other, tiny inscriptions grew in size until they were readable—the Aurebesh danced and flickered in her eyes until they stayed put to make the words.

The words turned into names of planets and of people, she caught a glimpse of a child using the Force—she could feel the child’s fascination with their newfound ability, despite not fully grasping their capability yet. Jidné questioned the Force in her mind why did it show her a child using the Force to play.

Her eyes shot up, unable to make of what she saw in her visions.

“What does it have to do with a kid? Unless…” Jidné pondered briefly, and then dismissed the thought. “That doesn’t help in clearing things up. I should go to bed.”

ID-3 trilled in agreement, sprinkling in some teases—pointing out how Jidné blushed fiercely when she was together with Cal.

“Can you not, you little saucer?!” Jidné screeched quite defensively.

The disc-shaped droid laughed—a robotic croaking of a single note, nonetheless a cheery one. Jidné snatched her droid into her arms and hugged him as their laughing mingled. She and ID retired to the captain’s quarters; Jidné shed off the cowl and jacket, leaving out the tank top that she wears underneath it, and pulled away the boots from her feet before bringing them up to the bed.

Jidné spaced out staring at the ceiling, absentmindedly she rubbed her hands together, feeling for Cal’s touch. She sighed and closed her eyes, remembering the sensation simply through touch.

“His hands… are so gentle,” she muttered, lightly clenching her fingers and rubbing the back of her hand until she drifted off to sleep.

Cal woke up hopeful the next morning. He was like a child again—incapable of hiding his excitement and eagerness while moving with such haste. When he joined everyone for breakfast, they watched how chipper the boy is as he scarfed down his breakfast in ten bites or less.

“Kid, kid, don’t you want a glass of water first after gobbling up your food all at once?” Greez beckoned, handing over Cal’s glass to him before the young redhead could get any farther from the table.

“Can’t have you choking on your words and breakfast at the same time when you face Jidné,” Merrin blurted, sipping on her cup of tea.

“No, I won’t choke!” Cal rebuked.

“Uh-huh,”

Regardless, Cal did take a gulp of water from the glass that Greez had offered him. He stood from his seat at the table and beckoned BD-1 to come along, the little droid hopped on over on his shoulder as he went down the stairs until he disappeared from the Mantis.

East of Diitana is a forest, a few miles away from where he and Jidné first met. He brushed his way through the shrubs. He used his climbing claws to scale the great trees to get a better view of the lay of the land, he pushed away curtains of vines that blocked his way to the next branch until he got the topmost of the tree he climbed up on.

The next thing he saw took his breath away—the expanse of Ombari from what ought to be the highest vantage point he’s ever been on. Green and orange clashed, evergreen treelines touched with the red mountain ridges of the badlands: a dramatic contrast of colors of terrain.

“Wow, would you look at that!” Cal gasped.

“Triiiiiiilll!!!”

He scanned the red plateaus, mountain ranges, and mesas that walled the continent from the next land mass beyond. On the other side continued the lushness of Ombari’s land—a meadow that stretched wide with rich green grass for the herbivores to graze on, a great lake and waterfall could be seen at the farthest end.

The wind blew in his freckled face, the cool breeze ruffled his soft locks and swayed them as if they danced along with the current. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, savoring the fresh air while being on top of the world. His heart couldn’t take the excitement, it stormed within his chest as he panned his head from west to east of the entire planet.

“Come on, BD, let’s go around some more!”

“Beep!”

Climbing up the great tree was a challenge, but the hardest was finding his way back down. Perched upon on the thick, sturdy branches, Cal strategized how he’ll get back on the ground that’s about twenty feet below him. He spotted coiled vines dangling from the treetops.

“I sure hope this works,” Cal uttered to no one in particular.

The boy thought he could make the jump and grab a vine to slip his way down, he instantly regretted it the moment he was suspended in the air—he desperately clawed the air in the hopes of catching at least a single vine. It was too late for him to catch one using Force pull, in turn, it’s the vines and lianas that caught him! During his fall, some of the snapped from the impact, others wrapped around him in different portions of his body; they tangled and coiled around his legs as he fell.

While he was saved from an apparent fatal head and neck injury, poor Cal dangled with his head just three feet above the forest floor. The flap of his poncho flopped upside down, obscuring his entire upper body. He grumbled, flailing around helplessly as he tried to reach for the vines that snaked around his legs, unfortunately, his poncho didn’t budge.

“Well, this is just _spectacular!_ ” sighed the upside-down Jedi in great vexation.

On the other hand, BD-1 wasn’t the one who’s got their legs stuck around tree vines. He hopped down from Cal in the first few minutes he got himself suspended with his head pointed down.

“BD-1? BD, who’s coming? Who’s there?”

He craned his head and saw a pair of boots peeking under. Two hands hiked up the hem of Cal’s poncho to reveal his face.

“Hey,” Jidné greeted casually. “How’s it hangin’?”

“Hah! Ha…” Cal half-heartedly chuckled. He playfully crossed his arms. “Oh, you know, not falling far from the tree.”

They concluded the exchange of tree and hanging puns with laughs. It pained them that giggling it away felt like the best resolution for both of them.

“Alright, I’m gonna cut off the vines for you,”

Jidné lets go of the poncho while Cal repeatedly barked “No!” and “Wait!” in the same sentence. His hands blindly pawed the air in search of Jidné, but she had already stepped away to a safe distance. She lobbed her weapon at the vines, the blade fanned through the air until it severed the vines a few inches above Cal’s legs—the boy’s body anticipated a fall, instead he felt like he’s floating. He finally pushed away the poncho that obscured his face and found Jidné’s free hand directed at him, she’d caught him using the Force and gently laid him down while her sword hand caught the returning lightsaber after she threw it.

“Thanks,”

“No problem,” Jidné shrugged her shoulders and gave him her hand to bring him up to his feet.

Cal dusted off the leaves and specks of dirt that clumped on his clothes; he got flustered all of a sudden when he saw Jidné bringing her hand close to his face and was proved otherwise when she picked out a leaf that got caught in his hair.

“You okay?”

Cal nodded and then the bounty hunter tilted her head back, emphasizing on the height of the tree in which the Jedi fell from.

“What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“Oh you know, trying to get a better look of Ombari—in a certain point of view,”

“Did you find anything interesting?”

“Glad you asked!”

Instead of answering her directly, he takes her by the hand again and led her to where the meadow ought to be. Cal could feel Jidné’s grip tightened around his and even if she may not feel it—he squeezed it back; together, they followed an invisible path that perhaps only the two of them could see. Bushes and shrubs snapped and rustled when the Jedi and bounty hunter shouldered their way through, dried and withered leaves crunched and got whisked into the air by their heels, and the dewy mist cooled their pores as they dashed.

At the end of their run, their finish line was the seemingly endless vastness of the meadow. They scanned the sights as they caught their breaths. Long-stalked flowers, as well as the grass, danced pliantly in the direction of the wind. The faint crash of the waterfall in the lake echoed and mingled with the bellowing of the grazing herbivores.

“Oh my…” Jidné gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Over here, Jidné!”

Jidné was startled to find that Cal had run off a few meters away from her already, she raced and caught up to him. Both of them frolicked gaily, drawing attention from the grazing animals that they passed by, their droids hovered and fluttered about like mechanical butterflies while following their owners. BD-1 and ID-3 scanned the grazers for their databanks.

“What is it, BD?”

“Trill, bee!”

In translation, BD-1 told Cal about these grazing animals—the Q’aval, a docile animal that can easily be domesticated for labor such as pulling carts or serving as mounts, though in the wild, they can be quite a handful to tame and they pack a mean kick especially with their hind legs.

Cal decided it was a good idea to approach one of them amongst the herd. At first it whinnied and slightly reared when the animal saw the human boy approach it. He cooed “It’s okay” in soft whispers repeatedly while cautiously stepping towards the Q’aval, the gentle pat of Cal’s hand calmed down the majestic, hooved beast and nickered softly.

“There we go,”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jidné warned.

“It’ll be okay,” Cal reassured her while petting the Q’aval’s long, downward muzzle.

He noticed that Jidné stood there frigidly while examining the animal, he noticed the nervousness conflicting with the fascination in her face.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t bite,”

As much as Jidné wanted to pet the Q’aval too, her hands trembled profusely as she hoisted them to the level of the animal’s muzzle. Cal carefully took her hand and guided it towards the muzzle, his free hand then found the small of her back to comfort her. Her slender fingers came into contact with the curve of the animal’s jaw and by impulse, she petted it in a smooth pace.

The Q’aval quickly warmed up to Cal and Jidné, nudging its head closer to them to demand more pats and they gladly obliged. In the right timing, Cal quickly mounted the steed, it reared for a few moments as it was startled by the sudden weight that bore on its back; Jidné kept her distance from the Q’aval that bucked and kicked even though Cal was continuously petting its broad neck.

“Wanna hitch a ride?” Cal blurted.

Jidné scoffed a chuckle, resorting to petting the animal’s neck, “Is it safe?”

“Sure, do you trust me?”

The girl’s head jerked to Cal. There’s the child-like yet tender gaze looking back at her, the gleaming emerald eyes that always had a natural allure that she couldn’t take her own eyes off of them, and then the coy and inviting smile to top it all off.

“I do,”

She approached him, he extended his hand to which she gladly takes. With a sudden might, he hoisted her to the back of the Q’aval with him; out of instinct, she snaked her arms around his waist to keep herself balanced upon the mount. BD-1 gently perched upon the animal’s mane while ID-3 returned to Jidné’s shoulders. Cal licked his lips and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Don’t ever let go,”

Jidné intertwined her fingers much tighter together and buckled closer to Cal.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

A gentle yet abrupt kick spurred the Q’aval to gallop across the meadow. The animal’s speed was breathtaking yet empowering; their hairs danced in the wind as they ran towards the never-ending horizon. Neither of the two Jedi have ever felt anything like this—it was simply astonishing!

The Q’aval made for the hills, as if in an attempt to show them the greater breadth of the planet. To their surprise, they’ve been revealed the coastline of Ombari’s main continent—black rocks framed the deep blue ocean with ivory seafoam that striped its waters, a shore of golden sand lined the beaches from one rock formation to the other. Cal felt Jidné rest her chin upon the edge of his shoulder.

“Oh wow…” she gasped, the sight of the coastline had stolen all of the air in her lungs in wonderment. She swooned. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

Cal could feel her smile at the same time their fingers intertwine.

They returned to the meadow and dismounted the Q’aval which they thanked with a lot of pats before it returned to its herd.

They refreshed their parched throats with the sweet, cool water from the lake and rested by its banks. They settled atop the peak of another small hill where they can see the whole view of the animals and the waterfall. Jidné stretched out her legs on the earth and propped herself leisurely on her elbows while Cal drew his knees close to his chest where he can rest his arms.

“I never saw myself being in a situation like this,” Jidné initiated.

“What do you mean?”

“Back then, I barely had the time to explore in the same way as this. I understood that Master Anesh just wanted to keep me within a safe distance, but I felt like I kinda missed out on how worlds really looked like.”

“Well, we managed to see how Ombari really looks like,” Cal chirped.

Jidné turned to Cal and shot him a smile, “You’re right about that.”

“Actually, it’s really nice to lay low for once,”

“Oh? You hiding from someone?”

“Well yes… but actually no,”

The uncertain n tone in Cal’s voice made him sound like he’s questioning even himself. Jidné tilted her head and shot him a look to go on and say what he meant.

“These past few days, Inquisitors and Imperials have been chasing us back and forth for a Holocron,”

“The Inquisitors, I’ve heard about them,” Jidné trailed. “What do they want with a Holocron?”

“Well, it contains the list of all the Force-sensitive children,” Cal looked at Jidné in the eye. “The next generation of Jedi.”

Jidné’s heart raced. She put two and two together. Everything that Cal just said gave light to what she discovered last night.

 _That explains the child I saw!_ In her mind, she exclaimed.

She figured the Holocron was the second thing Vader needed—she remembers their negotiation back in Modala, the calm yet demanding tone of the dark lord thundered in her mind and rumbled her heart. She zoned out, staring back at the flawless green plains, letting the two facts sink into her.

“Are you searching for the children now?” inquired a curious Jidné, there was an ulterior motive between her words that Cal may or may not have hinted.

“No,” the boy simply shook his head. “Even if we _did_ find them, the Empire will come after them. The same way they’re after us, I think.”

Her heart sank further in, Cal’s last sentence hit her close to home. The same goes for them back when they were younger—when they were still Padawan learners—it’s unimaginable to think that these children, who have no idea what they’re capable of in the first place, be suddenly robbed of their homes and families simply because they were Force-sensitive, all for the sake of the Empire’s exploits.

“So, the only way the crew and I thought would keep them safe is…” Cal trailed off. The fact that he destroyed a Holocron felt like a sin for once, even though he seemed confident about it when he had done the deed. “Is destroying the Holocron.”

The cogs in the bounty hunter’s mind turned so relentlessly that sparks sputtered in the tiny gaps in between. She masked her surprise with a straight face and pensive eyes, on the inside, she’s already drafting her progress report should Darth Vader come in contact with her.

Cal took notice of her silence, he examined the girl’s stoic expression: eyes lost to the endless meadow, lips slightly parted with the words dripping at the edge, and the gentle rising and falling of her breast as she breathed.

“You did the right thing,”

“For a second there, you looked like you just heard me confess a crime,”

“Well, I was never told that there was a law that destroying Holocrons was a criminal offense!”

The two traded glances and ended up in giggles, returning their gazes at the meadow and counting the Q’avals that grazed the tall grass. The day was whiled away with their banters of their childhood. They may have been worlds apart, but the stories that were so alike with another had linked them.

“You know, it’s funny,” Cal began.

“What is?”

“We’ve probably never even met along the halls in the Jedi Temple, yet somehow I find it easy to talk to you about these sorts of things. It’s like I’ve known you all my life,”

Jidné reciprocated the sentiment. Her thoughtful eyes smiled back at him, she plopped her back flat against the soft earth to hide her cheeks in their blushing glory. Cal started plucking the tiny flowers that dotted the plains and surrounded them, he adorned her dark hair splayed on the grass with white and pink buds while his free hand dared to caress her cheek—the back of his fingers stroking and tracing the suppleness of her face down to her jaw.

His touch was received with the upward curl at the corner of her lip, in return, Jidné plucked out a blade of grass and drew invisible lines over his scars—tickling his neck, cheek, and the bridge of his nose, counting his freckles with the pointed end of the stalk, her thumb softly brushing against his lip to find the tiny nick on his lower lip. Her slender fingers combed away the stray locks that draped over his forehead, revealing another slit that cut through his eyebrow.

She could only imagine what kind of stories these marks have to tell her.

Evening fell upon the two youngsters, Cal promptly stood up.

“Let me take you to your ship. Is it still in the badlands?”

“Sharp memory,” she blurted.

Cal offered Jidné a ride on a Q’aval before it got any darker. By default, she wrapped her arms around him again and he welcomed her embrace, Cal spurred the animal and in obeisance to its rider, the Q’aval reared and galloped through the plains, they passed by Diitana and crossed its bridge until they’ve arrived in the badlands.

Jidné did some backseat driving, directing Cal where to go until they found the trenches and he caught a glimpse of the Scarab’s hull. Both of them dismounted the animal, Cal got a closer look of her freighter—he recalls scrapping a similar model back in Bracca.

“You could have stayed the night at the Mantis, you know,” the Jedi initiated.

Jidné pursed her lips, “It looks like a full house in there.”

“Nah, you fit right in,”

“It’s fine, Cal,” she insisted politely.

“Well, if it’s not too much to ask—let’s do this again some time?”

Even in the night, the girl could always spot the twinkle in Cal’s clear jade eyes; he didn’t need any more words, his fond puppy-eyed gaze was enough to get her heart going—though, she wondered if he was aware that he made her feel that way.

“Don’t look at me like that,”

“Why not?” he cooed back.

“Because I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to say no,”

Cal chuckled nasally. He took out a flower that he had tucked underneath the straps of his armor and wore it on Jidné’s hair, wearing it into the braid that crowned the side of her head.

“Then I can wait for that yes,”

He leaned in and planted his lips against her cheek. He found her standing there, apparently taken aback by the gesture, when he looked over his shoulder.

“Good night, Jidné.”

“Good night, Cal.”

The animal reared once more and Jidné watched the boy ride into the distance, leaving plumes of dust in his wake. Her heartbeat synchronized with the hooves of the Q’aval as he departed. Absentmindedly, her fingers fondled the petals of the flower pinned into her hair while looking into the now-empty desert.

An epiphany threw its way into her—it felt like something invisible had tackled her into submission and punched her in the gut so violently that she arched inward for a bit.

“Shit…”

“Cheep, trill?”

“This never happened before… No… It can’t...” she turned to ID-3 for some sort of affirmation. “Can it?”


	12. Face Thine Demons

Jidné fixed herself a cup while staring intently at the Holocron shard. She recalled Cal’s words from yesterday, and right after that, Darth Vader’s specifications of the contract followed. It frustrated her that it was the thing that kept her awake way into the wee hours until it had mentally exhausted her to sleep.

Her mind concocted an endless list of assumptions, theories, and scenarios that she forgot to take a sip from her cup to slow herself down. The images replayed to no end, some of them were interjections of her own memories from the day of the Jedi Purge; her breath shuddered, for no matter how many times she blinked them away, the memories and the moments that are yet to be—from her meditation before and the premonitions now—flashed behind her eyes. The sounds she imagined were starting to sound too surreal, covering her ears to shut them out proved futile.

Jidné’s head shot up, interrupted by her droid barging in with a series of panicking chirps.

“Who is it, ID-3?”

“Bee… Beep, trill,” the droid answered rather nervously, the tone of his chirps caused Jidné’s eyebrows to pull together.

Jidné jogged away from the galley and headed to the lounge—she asks ID-3 to relay the transmission to the holotable’s receiver and the droid promptly obeyed, twisting his connector in the port left and right until the transfer became successful.

The projection of Darth Vader from the waist up crackled into existence at the center of the holoprojector. Jidné approached the holotable, the projection towered a few feet above her that she kept her head tilted up and stood at a distance away from the table.

“Lord Vader,” she greeted with the same steely tone of voice she used on the dark lord. “How untimely of you to drop by.”

“I require a report of your progress, Sheedra,”

Jidné clenched her jaw.

“Did you find the boy?”

Her shoulders heaved, “Yes. I’ve found him in hiding… though he’s not aware of me yet.”

“And what of the Holocron?”

Jidné played dumb—a risky move for a young Jedi who’s also in hiding—and pulled her eyebrows together.

“Is that the vital thing you seek of him?”

“Yes. Does he still have it?”

The bounty hunter shakes her head in earnest, “I haven’t… seen him hold it yet. Obviously, he’s kept it in his ship for safekeeping.”

The longer this conversation went, the more cemented her assumptions became.

“My Inquisitors have already failed in recovering that Holocron from the Jedi,” he raised his finger in her face, regardless if it was via hologram. “Do not fail me like they did, _Sheedra._ ”

He hissed at the utterance of her surname, Jidné could visualize the clenching of Vader’s teeth through that mask’s mouthpiece when he did. The hint wasn’t easy to miss, especially with that steady yet foreboding tone; she could’ve sworn she felt the interior of her ship rattle upon the intensity of the dark lord’s words.

Jidné stood her ground and steeled her voice, not tolerating being told what to do in her own turf and on her own expertise. She almost raised her voice back in an attempt to dominate his volume.

“With all due respect, m’lord, don’t ever tell me how to do my job.”

Taken aback by the child’s words, Darth Vader’s broad shoulders evidently eased, as the resolution of the hologram blurred and cracked with static in synch with his breathing. He leaned forward, closer to the lens of his holoprojector, he raised his finger at her again.

“You are fortunate it is _I_ who employed you. Consider this your warning, child. The Emperor would not have forgiven this as I did.”

Without needing a response from her, Vader ended the transmission on his end and the projection of the girl dissolved into nothingness. He returned into the silent solitude of his meditation chamber, a black shell that hid him away and concealed his true self from everyone else.

A long exhale wafted through the mouthpiece of his mask as he leaned back against the seat of his chamber. His calm mechanical breathing ricocheted in the organic walls of his sanctum. He recalled the conversation with the bounty hunter, he sensed something within the girl and the delivery of her words—he gave himself the benefit of the doubt and deduced it was the usual anxiety one would have when reporting to him, afraid that they might step into the wrong foot and have to elaborate themselves.

“I sense a disturbance in the Force… and in that child.” He purred, his leather between his gloved fingers squeaked as he gripped on the armrests of his sanctuary’s throne.

Robotic limbs from the ceiling whirred and lowered towards his head, its pincers gingerly clamped at the hem of his helmet, with a single click of the inner mechanism the limbs carefully took off the layers of his mask one by one. With the final layer was removed, light is shed upon the true face of Vader: sickly, calloused skin that aged as it healed from fatal burns, a wrinkled bag of skin that crumpled whenever he blinked his sunken, sorrowful eyes, and a rupture on the top of his head ran from one point to the other.

Another set of robot limbs appeared, vials of Bacta and syringes were fixed on where their pincers ought to be. In his first few years of getting used to this armor—now his new body—the medical procedure was a form of self-pity and pain, though it fueled his connection with the Dark Side, making him stronger and more powerful the way the Emperor intended him to be.

Vader afforded a moment to breathe before commanding the robotic claws to fit his helmet back on. The chipped, coarse leather glove ran across his creased forehead. He yearned for a moment of peace, a moment to meditate, but the demons of his past intruded his sanctum as they please, ravaging his supposedly rock-solid conscience as sturdy as the armor where his life clings onto constantly. When he deemed the activity pointless, he slammed a button—he waited for a few minutes and heard the main door of his room hiss open. Another press of a button and his meditation chamber parted open.

“What is thy bidding, my master?” a female Twi’lek Inquisitor, with skin as crimson as blood and her blade, inquired upon her entrance, kneeling in front of Vader with the greatest reverence.

* * *

Jidné caught her breath after the transmission, clutching her chest did little to relax her wild heart. She fumbled her way towards the booth seat in the lounge, she attempted to relax—she clapped her hand against her forehead, slouched her back against the sofa while trying to realign her thoughts.

The beeping of the homing beacon caught her attention, it sat idly atop the center table. Using the Force, Jidné reached for it, she gawked at it resting at the center of her palm and she was reminded of her duty, but the feelings that has been forged by her connection with Cal conflicted her greatly.

“Trill…?”

“I don’t want him to get hurt, ID-3,”

Jidné closed her fist with the beacon still in her hand, she and ID-3 looked at one another for a brief moment—as if wordlessly coming to an agreement—the girl’s fist tightened, inhaled deeply that it puffed her chest, she turned her hand sideways and opened her fingers to let the blue circular device fall to the floor…

The sole of her boot stopped the beacon from rolling away, then with all her strength, Jidné crushed the device beneath her feet—reducing it into shards of glass and metal.

She’s seen enough. She’s understood enough.

“I won’t let them hurt him,”

The other end of the beacon is still attached to the Mantis, but she made it a point to get it and destroy it the same way before Cal finds out. She donned a maroon jacket and a black cowl before heading out of the Scarab, she beckoned ID-3 to come along and the droid hovered towards her shoulders to perch himself there.

Jidné found a herd of Q’aval in the desert not far from the water hole, imitating the same approach as Cal did yesterday, she tamed one and mounted it. The animal reared as Jidné spurred the side of its belly with a gentle kick of her boot, clouds of smoke fluttered behind its heels as it stamped through the badlands and towards the forest, foam frothed at the rim of its mouth. She dismounted the Q’aval before it even came to a full stop, she sprinted towards the Mantis; she recomposed herself until Cere greeted her at the door.

“Jidné? What a pleasant surprise for you to come by,”

“Hi Cere, is Cal here?”

“No, actually he went to Diitana with Greez—he finally got to tour the captain at the marketplace—but I bet they’re just about finished with those errands,”

“Oh? How nice of him,”

“You can wait for him inside,” invited Cere.

“Sure, just let me… catch my breath,”

Cere excused herself and went back inside, Jidné ran to the stern of the Mantis where she had shot the homing beacon during their chase. The device ceased to blink or beep, it died out the same time Jidné destroyers hers. She tore it off clean from the exterior and stamped her boot on it numerous times, she dug the soil with her shoe and buried the shards in the tiny crater she made.

It was peaceful in the clearing—nothing but wind and chirping songbirds hidden amongst the trees. Jidné situated herself atop a boulder a few meters away from the ship, in an attempt to meditate while waiting for Cal. It has been a while since she did so and she wanted to see how she fared lately.

Finding solace in the clearing, she meditated and relearned her master’s lessons at the same time; recalling the words of Master Anesh from the vision she had a couple of days ago. Little by little, the girl afforded to be proud of herself as the meditations become more tranquil and resonant.

What was initially experimental, and then turned out to be quite effective: she dared to reach out to the Force and allowed to let whatever thoughts flow within her—there was laughter and warmth, comfort and compassion, images of Master Anesh smiling, and the gleam of Cal’s clear, green eyes that’s burned into her mind all too well.

“That actually felt nice…” she murmured upon opening her eyes. She gazed at her hands, then wiggled her fingers as she examined them as if the sensations touched her in reality.

She thought hours have passed, when in fact it has only been minutes. However, the good feelings were immediately washed away when her Q’aval suddenly began to neigh nervously and clopped its hooves in place.

“Hey, what’s wrong, old timer? You smell something?”

The animal neighed again, then she heard the rustling of the bushes that lined the clearing. Jidné’s instincts went on high alert, she cautiously hopped down from the boulder as she peered through the dim denseness of the forest beyond.

“Who’s there?”

A cacophony of insects hissing and chirping replied her, she didn’t take that for an answer. She senses something else than just insects and birds.

Her hand subtly wandered to her saber; with her rifle still out of commission, she had been leaning into her saber more, and she actually preferred it to the ballistic weapon. She unclipped the hilt from her belt as quietly and slowly as she can. A narrow path connected the Mantis’s spot to another open space of the forest, something about it lured Jidné in, but she had sensed a trap—for Force’s sake, she’s a bounty hunter! She knew this strategy all too well; whoever the enemy was, they wanted to her stray from the Mantis, they wanted to single her out.

 _Something’s definitely not right._ She thought while she prowled, saber in hand and ready to ignite.

Her attempt to use Force Shroud on herself was hindered when her ears pricked up at the sound of a pin clinking. A flashbomb hissed upon the removal of the pin and rolled to Jidné’s feet. Luckily, she had the sharp reflex to kick it back to the thrower.

She shielded her eyes with her arm but was jumped by the bounty hunter who wielded a rifle with a vibroblade bayonet, she was able to deflect the attack with her saber; upon closer look, she recognized the enemy—it was the same bounty hunter who chased Cal in Diitana, the goon named Fazer.

“Where’s your boyfriend, girlie!?” the male hunter spat through his cloth mask.

“Where’s yours, scum?!”

If there’s one thing Jidné could never go wrong about the Haxion Brood—it’s that they always travel in pairs.

“Look at that, she’s got a laser sword too!” the HURID droid stomped his way into the picture, outnumbering Jidné two to one.

“So glad you could join us!” Jidné blurted and pushed the hunter away to stance herself.

She deflected the HURID droid’s barrage of blasts from its gauntlet gun in a fluid, spiraling motion of her saber. A third one had appeared from the trees, another male human hunter with a jetpack. He jumped on her, she evaded it too little too late thus she staggered for a brief second before using the Force to push her assailant away.

All three enemies circled her in the center of the clearing, like vultures to a carrion.

“We got you outnumbered, ye cunt! Sorc is gonna pay us a shitton of money for yer head!” Jetpack barked.

_Sorc!?_

“That son of a bitch!!”

Jidné’s hard feelings didn’t root from the fact that she once worked for Sorc—despite their stale work dynamic—and discovered now that he’s put a price on her head; what enraged her is that she had become a target herself in _her own organization_ —though it’s highly likely that he had bribed someone, with Baz being a probable candidate, or had a mole in the Guild. Sorc had actively broken a law in the Guild and whoever else was in connivance. Whatever the reason, she needed to finish these three goons.

The skirmish got intense pretty quickly. It was just Jidné alone against three; her first target was the hunter with the jetpack—she immediately put him out of work when she deflected a blast and redirected it to the exhaust hatch of the jetpack, instantly setting it on fire. All eyes—both Haxion and Jidné—were glued to the poor sod who’s spinning out of control, perfectly incapable of escaping his jetpack until he blew up with it upon impact of a tree trunk.

“Alright, your attention here!” Jidné beckoned, spinning her saber and positioning herself in a beginning stance.

The HURID was the most aggressive attacker among the two remaining. Both of them were troublesome in their own special way—Fazer kept himself at a safe distance while loading his gun, to ruin his strategy, Jidné moved a lot: taking advantage of the trees, scaling them and perching on their branches, and finally utilizing her Force Shroud in battle. She masked herself using the Force; to the weak-minded eye, it would appear that she disappeared out of plain sight and into thin air.

“Where’s the little cunt!?” Fazer roared.

The hulking droid and the human hunter spun around in place, in search of their nimble target.

“If you’re such a brave lil’ girl, why don’t ye come out!?” Fazer taunted.

Jidné saw that the HURID droid standing directly below the branch she’s perched on, she ignited her saber and descended upon the walking block of metal from the heavens, driving her saber into its central processing core with her purple lightsaber.

“Now, it’s just you and me, Fazer,”

“You know me, don’tcha, little birdie?”

“You’re one of Sorc’s favorites, I figured he’d send you. Shall we put that to the test?”

“Don’t make me laugh, kid!”

In a deadpan snark, the girl clapped back, “I’ve always had a dry sense of humor.”

Jidné had taunted Fazer into laying down his shield, telling him to face her like a true fighter with the remaining ounce of a crook’s honor in him; the enemy hunter humored the girl and relinquished his foldable shield, leaving himself with only his bayonet rifle.

Tiny, blue cracks of electricity coursed along the blade of the bayonet and instantaneously died out as soon as it came into contact with the saber’s beam. Jidné held fast, the soles of her boots were practically buried into the dirt as she kept her stance, her unwavering grip secured her hilt as she shifted all her weight in blocking Fazer’s blade.

“You can’t win, girl!! I’ll have your head rolling over Sorc’s table!” grunted Fazer.

Collecting all her might and transferring it all on her deflection, she took a big, deep breath as the purple gleam shone over the gloss of her dark, willful eyes.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!”

She pushed Fazer away, kicked him the hardest in the abdomen to stagger him and afford a window of opportunity to cut him down. With the strength fueled by adrenaline, she struck down the bounty hunter and silence returned to the forest…

Or so she thought.

More rustling among the bushes alarmed her, she brandished her saber securely, prepared for a stance if necessary. The noises persisted and prompted her to follow it, instead of waiting for it to jump on her. Blinded by the anger that she mistook for the thrill of the action, she dashed mindlessly through the forest, following the sound.

Meanwhile, Cal had returned to the Mantis’s clearing and spotted a Q’aval. He approached it and started bobbing its head to its forward direction while neighing fervently.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay! What’s wrong?”

Cal held the animal's muzzle, petting it with his one hand while the other cupped its large cheek. The Q’aval kept nodding at the direction of the clearing despite being calmed down, the redheaded Jedi finally got the hint as he turned his head to the path.

He withdrew from the animal, tugged his saber off of his belt, and cautiously prowled into the neighboring clearing with peeled eyes. When the boy sensed nothing, he investigated the area and discovered the bodies of the three Haxion Brood hunters sprawled across the clearing; he got closer and found lightsaber cuts across their bodies—except for the third one who had majority of his body charred from the explosion of his jetpack, nonetheless, Cal recognized the handiwork.

“Beee…!” BD-1 chirped and pointed at something with his entire body.

Lying just a few inches away from Fazer’s body were bright, turquoise beads threaded into two separate strands. Cal knelt down and examined it, he hesitated to take it at first but eventually scooped it up with one hand, he’s seen this trinket more than once and didn’t need to guess who the owner is.

“Jidné…” uttered Cal.

The fingers of Cal’s free hand gingerly touched the trinket—one finger for each bead—and a tunnel of light violently clouded his vision, the sharp sensation was reminiscent to being punched hard in the gut. Cal’s knees buckled as the echoes of the Force kick in. Sounds and voices that he knew all too well screeched and bounced along the walls of his skull.

_“Execute Order 66…”_

_“Keep up with me, Jidné!”_

_“I’m trying, Master!”_

_“The Jedi and the little girl are here! Don’t let them escape!!!”_

The barrage of blaster fire nearly deafened Cal, he finally melted to the forest floor; his hand gripped around the beads, his consciousness battled with its own demon—a part of him wanted to let go, but the other kept his fist shut, as if gripping it tightly to stop him from opening his hand, and so the waking nightmares persisted in his mind.

_“This way, child! Come on!”_

_“Coming, Master!”_

_“Get behind me, little one!”_

_“Blast her!!”_

_“NOOOOOOOO….!!!!”_

_“Jidné… RUN…!”_

* * *

Jidné sprang out of the woods and into a lone waterfall’s clearing, different from the one where she once bathed and smaller in comparison. She panted and arched her back, her hands holding onto her knees as she gasped for air, finally allowing her body to relax. Jidné scanned the place and realized that she has no memory of the place, it was an entirely new area that she has gotten herself lost in.

Strange, she thought as she stepped further into this unfamiliar spot in the forest; she gawked quizzically at the sky as she walked, the trees’ canopy didn’t cover up the sun and yet the weather appeared to be overcast, as if a storm is brewing above—even though it was significantly sunny when she came here.

 _“Jidné…_ ”

The girl’s head jerked to the direction of the voice. At first she found nobody around, but her eyes continued to survey the area with great eagerness and curiosity. The call of her name brought her closer to the pool, oddly enough, the rippling of the water was louder than the end of the waterfall meeting the basin.

Jidné stood at the fine line between land and water. A silhouette—standing tall and regal in stride—materialized, she squinted her eyes to peer through the curtain of water. The shadow became more opaque bit by bit: the tips of the montrals parted the water but not a single droplet lingered, the hem of the long robe swept the surface of the water as if it was a plane of glass flooring, and the apparition seemed almost _too_ real.

Nomara Anesh, her master… or perhaps the shell of what she used to be.

Jidné’s knees were reduced to jelly, so much so that she staggered back in surprise upon laying eyes on the waking vision of her mentor.

“Master Anesh…” a wide-eyed Jidné shuddered.

Silence. Only a smile replied to her, but it was no smile of compassion. There was something ominous that traced the line of that smirk. Wind howled amongst the towering trees as the two women faced one another.

The apparition stepped closer until she stood at the center of the pool, ripples orbited her even though Nomara stood like a statue; Jidné was able to get a closer look—she was impressed with the apparition, for it mimicked the sage aura that her master emitted, despite being a mere manifestation borne from the nether of the Force.

The young girl shakes her head and grips onto her saber.

“No,” she snarled, attempting to harden herself in the midst of this delusion. Her thumb crunches the switch of her saber. “ _You’re not her._ ”

The ghost of Nomara Anesh rebuked the girl’s claim in the form of igniting her own saber. An indigo blade emitted out of the elegant silver hilt. The Togruta slowly walked up to her as they spoke.

_“What makes you so sure? Have you allowed your doubts to cloud your feelings?”_

Jidné detected the difference of this apparition’s tone of voice compared to the real thing; this one sounded emotionless and strict altogether. The apprentice couldn’t find the same warmth the original has within this ghost. The compassion and kindness that the real Nomara Anesh had, the traits that the girl missed sorely and dearly, was completely non-existent.

“No, I haven’t…”

_“Well then, we won’t find much outcome in words, will we?”_

That compassion Jidné desperately searched in that walking manifestation of Nomara was replaced with a demanding, arrogant façade—it’s as if she’s facing a different person with the perfect identical copy of her late master’s body.

Jidné itched to swing her saber at this ghost so much that she didn’t realize she had stepped onto the water, she paused and looked down on her feet. The water’s surface remained solid to stand on but retained its liquid aspects like the ripples and droplets. Now in the same arena as this spirit, she circled along the edge while her eyes fixated on the otherworldly entity. She can’t put her reason into words, it was more of a feeling.

 _“You have allowed so much of the darkness to take you… that you can’t even see who you truly are,”_ Nomara lectured coldly.

The walking vision had provoked the child, Jidné had lost the remaining ounces of control she had within her and came charging at the Togruta. Two blades of nearly the same shade clashed and growled against one another. Nomara retained her erect, poised posture while the young Jidné had her back arched as she put all of her strength on the strike.

 _“Is this the resolve you’ve settled with? Is this how you honor my teachings!?”_ Nomara hissed, truly sounding like an unsatisfied mentor. “ _You have truly forgotten the ways of the Force!”_

“That’s not true! _You_ don’t know that! You are _not_ her!!”

The young Jedi continued to send a flurry of attacks against this sentient delusion, but for every move she knew and used against the ghost, it always had a way to deny her of a strike; her anger bestowed her a false and hollow strength that bore no blows. Jidné’s body flared with a recklessness that was determined to strike down that spirit. But the next thing she knew, Nomara’s ghost stopped the Jedi girl in her tracks.

_“You can’t save him—the same way you can’t save yourself from the past, the present, and even in the future. You will always run away from your fate like the weak coward that you are!”_

“NO!!!”

Another clash of blades, a sphere of light formed at the center of the intercrossed beams. Something between the lines of Nomara’s words struck something within Jidné, and then she sought for the strength inside her again… but found nothing. The Togruta bore all her weight on her attack, gradually bringing down the former apprentice until she’d fumble.

_“You are not the Padawan I trained!!”_

Jidné struggled to push away Nomara—even for a few paces at least—to regain her composure. This time, it was the Togruta who went into the offensive. With the distance shrinking between them, Jidné paced her breathing and timed the right moment to counter.

A shockwave of the Force sourced from the collision of their sabers, it was a wave so strong that it threw Jidné meters away from their arena. The girl couldn’t pinpoint where the phenomenon originated—though it didn’t matter. She found herself tumbling back into the clearing where she had singlehandedly eradicated the Haxion Brood hunters, her head jerked in all directions to survey her bearings.

“Jidné!”

The girl jolted upon another call of her name, Cal ran up to her and slowly lifted her up.

“Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Cal felt the immense tremor across Jidné’s entire body; puzzled, he looked at the direction of the forest where Jidné came out of and had an inkling of what just happened. He escorted her into the Mantis and offered her to a place to rest there.


	13. Strange Way of Finding Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a full-length flashback chapter, but then I thought 5000 words or more seem a little bit of a drag so I decided to split it into separate chapters instead!
> 
> TW: family separation, separation anxiety (for this chapter only)

**_31 BBY_ **

**_ESHYN, LAU’NON SYSTEM, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES_ **

The clouds clear a path for the Jedi Starfighter, aboard it is the young Jedi Seeker, Nomara Anesh, one of the youngest seekers at only 34 years old.

Her aerial view of the archipelago captivated her as she flew by the land mass. The sapphire blue coastline surrounded the island, high mesas with a vast carpet of grass framed the formation while the torrential waves kissed the rigid rock faces with its ivory-white seafoam and mist.

It was simply breathtaking.

Though it saddened her that the Trade Federation has begun to press its ugly thumb into this tropical masterpiece. Prior to her visit, Nomara did her reading on the planet, its current political and economic state as well. She has always been the curious one amongst her batch—said her former master—thus resulting to her inquisitive upbringing.

“There it is, Evy,” Nomara peered through the side window of the cockpit. “Sa’Junna: where we need to be.”

She afforded another pass above the main island, searching for a safe place to land with the assistance of the astromech droid.

“Do you see anything, Evy?”

The droid, EV-65 or Evy as Nomara personally nicknamed it, chirped in excitement, equally as captivated as its Jedi owner; the droid popped out a tiny satellite from a small hatch on its dome head.

The young woman managed a smile at her droid’s happy trills, but something stirred within her as she approaches the island. The closer she got, the swirling at the pit of her stomach became stronger—though, it didn’t alarm her because she doesn’t sense anything wrong with it; nevertheless, whatever the Force was subtly telling her, it intrigued her.

“Bee-beep!!”

“Great job, Evy. Override the landing cycle now,”

“Beeep-doo!”

It took Evy a few seconds before relaying the area coordinates for a safe landing area to Nomara’s dashboard. A virtual map of the island flashed and a green blip blinked over the center section of the land mass. The Jedi followed the lead and managed to dock her ship in between the capital and a village half a mile away from each landmark. The droid remained on the ship while Nomara dismounted the vessel.

The city of Sa’Junna was developed by a civilization of old, and then later cultivated and nurtured by the past generations until the current one. Having grown and thrived for countless millennia, a great majority of the residents were humans, but other humanoids like Twi’leks and Nautolans have migrated to this idyllic sanctuary. The place appeared to have seen better days priors to the Trade Federation’s occupation.

Nomara could see the bustle of trade in the city, it wasn’t as grand as Coruscant or Naboo, but the prosperity is evident.

Upon alighting her starship, she was promptly greeted by a tall stature of a human male with a greying beard that covered half of his olive-skinned face. He gestured with open arms, welcoming the Togruta, while subtly keeping a tinge of caution in his words and actions.

Nomara bowed slowly and solemnly in greeting.

“Welcome, traveler. What is it that you seek in our already-disturbed home?”

“The exact disturbance you speak of, friend.”

The tribe leader introduced himself as Sentuk Nirmo, he governed one of the villages that networked with the main city—where most of the trade transpires. Seeing that Nomara bore better will than the Trade Federation’s emissaries, he invited her into their settlement where they could speak openly within closed walls. As they walked, Sentuk briefed Nomara of their situation.

“At first, they wanted the metal. But when they found the deeper caverns, that’s when they’ve completely sucked our mines dry! The Federation has robbed us of our own homeland.” Sentuk grieved, and then added. “They barricaded the Yishen Strait—our main trade route—from civilians and _real_ traders. Since then, business has been slow for many of us.”

Sentuk’s voice trailed off when he noticed Nomara subtly panning her head left and right, as if searching for something. The Jedi apologized for zoning out, the tribe leader dismissed it as a fascination towards the planet as well as exhaustion—and so he invited her to their settlement. The Togruta follows the Sentuk into the village; along the way, he explains that each village has a leader which then comprises the council. With every step, the faint trace of the Force that Nomara has picked up gotten stronger.

Sentuk presented his humble home, it seems that the Federation has already left its mark in this village along with the others surrounding the capital city—Nomara looked around and found children playing out in the open, whilst weavers make baskets and rucksacks out of their looms for the hunters to store their game, other residents tend and plow their modest vegetable gardens and orchards.

“It seems so peaceful here,” Nomara’s smile faded as instantaneously as it appeared. “But I sense the distraught in these people.”

Sentuk hummed in agreement, recalling his grievance of their overall predicament. Nomara’s brows pulled together, she closed her eyes for a moment to detect that trail she’s picked up.

“There’s something else,” she mumbled so quietly that Sentuk barely heard.

The Togruta blinked her eyes open and the first thing she saw was a small girl watching the other children play—she looked like she had just learned how to stand and walk. Forgetting that she stood with the tribe leader, Nomara approached the child slowly until the girl acknowledged her with wide, quiet eyes bursting with curiosity.

She knelt down to level with the child, she offered her open palm, and without a single ounce of hesitation the toddler placed her pudgy hands on the vibrant red-skinned palm of the visitor. Their eyes met, Nomara’s heart leapt for a reason she can’t explain, her lips involuntarily curled and by impulse, her fingers folded around the soft, tender hand.

“Jidné!” a melodic voice beckoned from the cottage.

Both Nomara and the child turned to the direction of the voice, it was the mother. Nomara slowly hoisted herself back to her full height, when the mother stepped out of the doorway of their home, two more little girls followed behind her—presumably the little one’s older sisters—but they kept themselves close by the skirt of their mother, intrigued and at the same time shy of the unusual-looking visitor.

“I’m sorry, I just…” stammered the Jedi softly. “Your daughter.”

The mother flashed a friendly smile, “Yes, what about her?”

“She’s strong with the Force. For someone so little, she carries a significant amount of it within her.”

The woman immediately got the hint, she’s heard the stories, though this is the first time she’s met one in the flesh. Her eyes wandered to the waistband of the Togruta’s robes and spotted the silver hilt shimmering, dominating the neutral colors of her clothes.

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my name is Nomara Anesh,” the Jedi bowed her head briefly as soon as she uttered her own name.

“My name is Tymara Sheedra, I see you have met my little Jidné,” the woman peeked over the backside of her skirt, spotting her two other daughters, she introduced Krea and Maryn—aged eleven and eight respectively. The girls greeted the Togruta who beamed a gentle smile at them as she returned the gesture.

Nomara clarified that she was a Seeker and stated her purpose to Tymara, the Togruta’s emotions synched with the other woman’s—that friendly smile reduced into a poker face and then replaced with a blank smile.

“Um… Why don’t we talk inside? I just finished making supper,” Tymara invited the guest into her house, who politely obliged despite the tension.

The single-storey cottage was quaint, although each room was cramped and limiting to a number of persons inside. The kitchen was in the same space as the dining table—which lacked chairs and had woven cushions and mantles in its place. If one is to peek a little bit to their right, they could see the bedroom—the girls’ beds were thick-enough cushions each sitting atop a wooden frame, whilst the parents’ bed is settled on another side of the room; the only thing distinguishing the “rooms” was a wooden divider panel.

Nomara wagered this house couldn’t fit any more family members, Jidné would be the live marker of the home’s limit. She settled herself by the table—across where she sat, the three girls played in a small space that only fit them perfectly without needing to duck or crouch, the two older sisters watched with great fascination as Jidné lift a doll off the floor without touching it, Nomara watched intently along with them.

Tymara offered her a bowl of broth and bread on the side.

“I’m really sorry about our house. It’s not exactly much, isn’t it?” Tymara initiated quite apologetically, poking the bits of meat in the soup.

“I don’t mind,” Nomara awkwardly chuckled, parroting Tymara’s nervous poking before scooping up a spoonful and then bringing it into her mouth.

“What is it that you Seekers do?”

“We search the galaxy for Force-sensitive children. We bring them to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant and then train them into becoming Jedi Knights like myself.”

Tymara bit her lip and gawked emotionlessly at her food, it took her a good minute before she started to touch her food again. She spoke again, but didn’t face Nomara when she did.

“Have you come for _her_?”

The Jedi’s head perked to the mother, Tymara let the bottom of the spoon float above the soup—sensing her fluctuating appetite swirling together with the anxiety slowly eating away her mind; Nomara inhaled deeply, ceasing to touch her food to find the right words to say.

“Not specifically. I didn’t even know it was her until I… well, found her. The Force—or perhaps the universe—has a strange way of showing things we need to see when we least expect it, no matter how difficult it is to accept the signs.”

“And this Force… showed you to my daughter?”

“It would appear so,”

“Are you going to take her from me?”

“I wouldn’t force it,” Nomara replied somberly, as if understanding the grief of separation. In a way, she has felt that in one way or another.

There was silence, even the girls have purposefully hushed their voices and giggling to secretly listen to their conversation between the guest and their mother—even the little, two-year-old Jidné followed suit of her sisters.

“Eshyn isn’t what it used to be anymore, this was my home, and my husband’s, and our parents…” Tymara mumbled, watching her daughters resume playing. “We thought the Federation would make us prosper—because that’s what they promised us. You could imagine how stupid we all felt when the Trade Federation delivered the perfect opposite of what they told us. Ever since then, life has been hard for all of us. Especially the children—even if they don’t see it that way, at least not yet.”

Nomara understood Tymara’s sentiments, after all, she is a mother just looking for out for children and wanting what’s only best for them. The collective giggling of the girls was the only thing that warmed the abode today.

“Where’s their father?”

Tymara’s clasped fingers tightened around one another, she breathed deeply and bit her lip before she spoke a word.

“I lost him to a mining accident… because they wanted more metal. That’s all we ever heard from them. More metal. More work. More yields.”

“I’m sorry,” Nomara averted her gaze to the food that had now gone cold.

Little Jidné approached the table, specifically to Nomara’s side. She waddled towards the Jedi, the baby stared and studied the vibrant indigo patterns of the montrals while feeling its texture; then her pudgy paws found the tassel of turquoise beads that framed the side of the Togruta’s face, mistaking it for a toy. The two women giggled, endeared the little one’s innocence as Jidné continued to lightly swat the accessory and watch it dangle, immediately and easily entertained. Eventually, her sisters joined in and bombarded the Togruta with questions of wonderment—to name a few, they asked her where her species lived, if the white patterns on their faces were actual skin or tattoos, and how long can their montrals grow.

Nomara is simply overwhelmed by the cheeriness of these three girls combined, but the unexplainable lightness of Jidné prevailed. She knew it was the girl’s Force energy, but also the purity of her heart and spirit.

Tymara smiled at the sight of her youngest daughter getting along too easily with their visitor, but it was a sad smile—in her mind, she was already arguing against herself for the betterment of her youngest. With the occupation rendering them dirt poor and being a single parent, she had to make the toughest decision of her life. It took Tymara the entire evening to let it sink into her and toughen herself up even though she’s already falling apart because of their economic state.

By sunset, the entire village was rattled by the presence of the Trade Federation emissaries and their guards—a small unit of battle droids. What barred them from taking a step further into the settlement is Sentuk, with his warriors and hunters united to making a barricade out of themselves to protect their home.

“Not one step further!” Sentuk bellowed.

“I am sure you are aware of your settlement’s dues, old man,” the Neimoidian official flapped its trouty lips at the tribe leader.

“Your demands do not have a single drop of realism in them! You demand large yields over a short period of time, not even the manpower of two villages combined can make that quota,”

“Yeah, with what you’ve done with our mines—that quota is ridiculous!” added a spear-wielding warrior standing beside Sentuk and the men behind them murmured in agreement.

“Is your brain smaller than what it appears?!” taunted another man in the barricade, the joke was received differently from each party.

Vexed and provoked, the Neimoidian emissary raised a finger at Sentuk.

“I have given you more than enough time for that quota and you have failed me once more! I told you what would come to you should you not do what you are asked!”

A hasty wave of the hand prompted the guards to aim their rifles at the people making up the human barricade, the people in the village shrieked in fright—many of which have already retreated into their homes but peered through their windows. Nomara, who had been observing the sour exchange between the leader and the slimy emissary, rushed into the scene a split second after the command to fire has been given—killing off five of the men already and fatally wounding Sentuk after being shot in the side of his stomach.

“Jedi!? Here!?” the Neimodian screeched in a panic.

All of the villagers completely retreated into their homes—including Tymara and the girls—while Nomara aided the warriors in eradicating the battle droids, leaving the empty-handed emissary standing amongst the pile of dead clankers. Completely befuddled and frightened for his life, Nomara had him at swordpoint.

“I… I didn’t give the order! I’m just a messenger…!” he whimpered and his sheer terror had unconsciously dragged his legs to make him run away, leaving the wake of the ruined droids behind him.

When the tension eased, Nomara quickly turned her attention to the wounded Sentuk. A group of people have already gathered around him.

“Bring him to your healer, quickly now!”

The group carried their leader by the feet and underneath his arms, they briskly brought him to the cottage of the village healer while Nomara caught her breath and examined the droids’ remains. She felt the gaze of Tymara piercing right through her, she found the mother and children huddled by the doorway after the skirmish; Nomara saw the sad, disdainful sigh of the mother as she herded her children back into the house again.

After tucking the girls to bed, Tymara joined Nomara who was overlooking the coastline; the ocean breeze made the ladies’ robes and skirt billow wildly above the grass. There was a voiceless banter between the women, as if they have already began this conversation in their minds and linked it to each other.

“Will she be taken care of?” Tymara blurted.

Taken aback by the question, Nomara turned her head to the mother and stared at her for a long moment, unaware that her lips have parted due to the surprise. She turned her eyes back to the ocean slowly being devoured by the evening’s darkness.

“What?”

“Jidné. If you bring her with you, to become a Jedi, will she be taken care of?”

“Tymara, a Jedi’s hard life is a hard life,” Nomara shifted her body to face Tymara. “Jidné will have to grow up facing a lot of dangers as she grows up if she comes with me.”

Tymara bitterly chuckled, more of a nasal exhalation than an actual laugh, “Better than scratching the earth for her next meal. At least I know that she lives fighting for something honorable.”

“What about you? And Krea and Maryn?”

“We’ll manage. They’ve already learned how to loom and tend farms, they know their craft well. But for Jidné, well…” Tymara licked her lips. “This will always be her home, but I know she’s made for something greater. I just know it. You can never underestimate a mother’s intuition.”

Nomara smiled, although sadly, mostly for Tymara and the girls. Having nothing more to say, the two of them continued to look into the horizon, finding an individual sort of comfort underneath the pale blue moonlight.

“No, I suppose not.”

That night, Tymara snuck upon her sleeping daughters, but fixated her eyes on the youngest—plump cheeks squished against the pillow, her round and supple belly rising and falling as she slept, and her twitching eyelids made Tymara wonder what the little one could be dreaming of. She knelt down by Jidné’s bedside, her hands smoothly glided over her soft head and fine head of dark hair, and leaned forward to kiss Jidné’s forehead—it was a long kiss, and even after she pulled her lips away, the roundness of the baby’s cheek perfectly fit the curve of Tymara’s nose bridge, inhaling Jidné’s infant scent.

The woman bit her lip as she battled with her tears. It’s going to be a long night for Tymara.

Nomara watched from the open doorway, arms crossed with each other, there was a heavy gloom around the house that suffocated her—not even sighing deeply helped. She retired to the space in the bedroom that Tymara had personally fixed up for her.

In the morning of their departure, Tymara held her youngest daughter for the final time and rocked her as if putting her to sleep. Her sisters, as well, bade their own tearful goodbyes to their baby sister, ceaselessly riddling her plump cheeks with kisses and leaving tears stains upon her skin—in a way, Jidné is lucky that she is unaware that this is the sorrow of parting.

Tymara nuzzled her cheek against Jidné’s smooth forehead. One last embrace and a kiss buried into the crook of the child neck; with her eyes closed, she imagined how Jidné would grow up to be—but she’s completely certain that she’d grow up to be a strong, courageous woman—and she painted a mental picture of how her daughter would look like once she’s come of age.

In a prayerful solemnity, Tymara whispered all of her wishes for Jidné to Jidné herself—be strong and brave yet remain kind, wise, and gentle; make good friends with the other children if she meets any; listen well to the instructions of the elders; and most importantly, listen to her heart.

Tymara savored this last moment, Nomara was kind enough to give all the time she needs—the Togruta passed the time by prepping her Starfighter and doing the necessary maintenance checks before takeoff.

“I love you… I love you so much, my darling girl,” Tymara feigns a brave face. She held Jidné right in front of her, then Jidné’s pudgy hands caressed both of her cheeks, and that’s when she lost it—tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting the child’s tiny fingers.

The true, final embrace and kiss from her mother before Jidné is transferred to the arms of Nomara Anesh.

“You have my word. She’ll be treated well.”

“I know,” muttered Tymara quite weakly, rubbing her arms together to whisk away the cold goosebumps pelting her skin. “I know.”

Tymara watches her daughter walk away in the arms of the Togruta. She watches a part of her heart and soul shrink in the distance, unaware eyes looking over the shoulder of the Seeker and back into the grieving eyes of her mother. Tymara’s hand flinched into a short-lived wave and quickly brought them to her lip, biting into her fingernails until her daughter has fully disappeared in a ship with Nomara and out of Eshyn.


	14. First Conscious Moments

**_JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT_ **

Nomara has returned to Coruscant with little Jidné along. Never has she ever been this careful, ignoring the ache of her arm as she held the swaddled child while her free hand steered her ship—with the partial assistance of Evy—until she landed on the east bay of the Jedi Temple. Nomara marched towards the main entrance of the grand temple while shielding the baby with her other wide sleeve, worried that the unusually strong wind might prick her little eyes.

Upon her entry to the temple, she was greeted by Master Yoda, the little sage being waddled with the aid of his cane. The green Jedi noticed the precious cargo in the Togruta’s arm.

“Back so soon, are you, Master Anesh,”

Nomara bowed curtly in return, “I’ve been only gone for a day and a half, Master Yoda,”

Yoda took notice of the swaddled bundle in the Togruta’s arm a second time. A weak smile managed upon his ancient face.

“Something precious with you, you seem to have brought, hmmm?”

An eager grin stretched upon the young Togruta’s face, she knelt down to his level, and then unfurled a portion of the swaddle that covered Jidné’s face. The child cooed at the sight of Master Yoda’s face—curious and delighted at the same time—the old master chuckled while being in the presence of something so small yet seemingly strong.

Yoda inquired about the child’s origin planet, Nomara indulged the old master with the goings on in Eshyn, he expressed his awareness of the planet’s state as he was also informed during council meetings.

“I swore to her mother that she’ll be taken care of,” Nomara reiterated.

“I understand. Trained and cared for, she will be. A good Jedi, she will grow into.”

Upon those final words, Nomara glanced on Jidné again; she afforded a hopeful look at the child’s face and she was greeted with an infectious, angelic smile—the young Togruta wholeheartedly agreed with the elderly master, she could almost imagine Jidné growing up as a Padawna and then a Knight.

When Yoda offered to summon the caretakers, Nomara politely refused and insisted she deliver Jidné to the children’s ward herself. Yoda caved, they ended up walking together to their destination, bowing to greet those whoever comes in their way.

Nomara was pretty sure that she had sensed it: Yoda’s cautious examination of how she behaved towards him regarding Jidné. Attachment was forbidden to the Jedi, since time immemorial that has been one of the primary lessons embedded into younglings’ minds the moment they can comprehend words. However, Nomara’s notion differed from the Council’s, stemming from the like-mindedness of her master, Loriq Caius—he was more inclined to learning the ways of the “Living Force,” an ideology that he and Master Qui Gon Jinn shared and often find one another in concurrence.

Upon their arrival of the children’s ward, a caretaker slowly approaches the Jedi with the child in hand and transfers Jidné into her arms; for a moment, the baby squirmed and cooed a worried tone to which Nomara quickly hushed softly, comforting the child before being held by someone else. Shortly after the separation, Master Caius himself enters the ward.

“Master Caius!” the Togruta exclaimed.

“I heard news that Nomara has returned quite so soon—with a youngling at that—I just wanted to check on my old apprentice,”

“I’m well, Master. And you?”

“Likewise,” Caius leisurely answered.

The banter was abruptly cut off because Jidné’s fussing had caught all of those in the ward, all heads turned to the child. Loriq got the hint. He examined the child who’s settled in that tiny pod of a bassinet while being bottle-fed. From where he stood, he can sense the Force rippling out of the child in an overwhelming magnitude that it’s unusual to see it from one so tenderly young; he rubbed his bearded chin as he joined the others’ observation of the toddler.

The caretaker approached the Jedi.

“With all due respect, Jedi, it is time for the children’s midday slumber. May I request you to exit the ward?”

The three Jedi obliged and bowed at the caretaker who returned the gesture. The room dimmed as soon as they left the room. Yoda excused himself and went the other way; Nomara was now left with her master by the door.

Ever since Loriq saw the child in the nursery and felt her Force ripple, he sensed something else—from Nomara. It’s as if the amount of Force that Jidné exuded, Nomara’s body—although unconsciously—repeats it, like soundwaves resonating with one another. Before the Togruta could walk away, the master gently tapped her shoulder.

“Nomara, do you have a moment?”

Promptly, the Togruta turned around and faced her master. Standing close to Loriq, she never realized that she was nearly as tall as him, with her montrals boosting her height just three inches more until its tips go past his head—memories of her youth reminded her of how she always had to tilt her head in order to look at him in the eye, but now that she’s grown, she didn’t need to take a pace backwards to see him eye-to-eye.

“Something on your mind, Master?”

“You sense something within the child,”

“Yes, the Force is strong with her that… just by looking at her, it’s overwhelming,”

“In addition to that, Nomara, I’m sure you’ve sensed it as well,”

The former, now-grown apprentice doesn’t follow. She pulled her eyebrows together, shooting a puzzled look at her master and wordlessly asking him to elaborate. Loriq decided to rephrase himself, he shifted and began to walk, Nomara followed by his side as they spoke

“I’d like you to recollect your feelings when you saw the child,” Loriq craned his head to Nomara, who kept her eyes ahead. “Search your feelings.”

Eventually, Nomara narrated everything that she saw in Eshyn—beginning with her meeting with Sentuk until taking Jidné with her, as well as what she felt from the little girl. She explains the feeling as a closeness of sorts, as though the pure feeling always finds its way to her, and then she’d resonate with the child—this occurred constantly ever since she and Jidné touched hands upon meeting.

“It’s only natural for two Force-sensitive to have a sort of connection, however, the difference is that connection grows over time. As for you—and Jidné, I suppose—it’s different, unusual even. The ripple is strong, perhaps the better would be ‘current’ given the magnitude of your Force energies’ convergence.”

“I’m not sure if I’m accurate, but are you implying that two Force-individuals may already forge a connection despite how briefly they just met? Do their energies bounce back one another, like a wave?”

“Perhaps. Whichever it is, it’s a rare Force-sensitive trait. I might have to meditate on it soon,”

The sage Jedi Master stopped walking in place, they ended up standing by the tall window overlooking the city and continued their conversation there with enough privacy. Loriq read Nomara’s silence as an eagerness to watch over the child, given that the first chain links of their bond have already closed. Instead of dismissing the gradual attachment between his apprentice and the youngling, he encouraged her with an open mind.

“The Force is telling you something about _and_ through this child, Nomara. I implore you to allow your insights to serve you well, as I have taught you,”

“I’ll keep in mind, Master,”

——————————————————–

**_26 BBY_ **

Over the years, Nomara has become a frequent audience member in the arena where the younglings—the prospective Initiates and Padawans—undergo their formal training and education. A single session is equally distributed between typical classroom lectures and application, the latter being the children’s favorite part. The Togruta always keeps a watchful eye on Jidné from the stands, but kept herself subtle; she’d often find herself in the company of the other masters—even the members of the Council themselves—as they observed the children from a distance.

Jidné, now seven years old, has made friends with the male Nautolan named Brese, and another human female, Leane. Each child was just one year apart from the other—but Jidné was the one in the middle—the small age gap made it much easier for them to get along. Master Tera Sinube was today’s proctor, he stood at the center of a ring of excited children who couldn’t stay still with their practice sabers in hand.

Tera Sinube tapped the floor with the end of his cane, “Youngling, younglings! Settle.”

The murmurs of the children died down, allowing Master Sinube to begin his session. He briefed them about the practical application of today’s lecture: performing basic lightsaber stances while balancing their dependence on the Force. Everyone in the chamber sensed some of the children’s gradual anxiety, it felt like too big a task for them to juggle between two abilities—one physically, and mentally for the other—including Jidné and her friends.

“Now, now,” Sinube hushed. “I understand that it may sound and look difficult, but remember: if you let the Force guide you, it will come to each and every one of you like second nature. As easy as breathing, if I may so!”

Sinube decided to encourage the class with a volunteer, when nobody stepped forward after twenty seconds have passed, the old proctor decided to find one himself. He followed the line that the children formed, some of them followed him with their heads or eyes while the others stared blankly straight into random portions of the room to avoid eye contact. While the search for a volunteer continued, the Jedi Knights Mace Windu and Shaak Ti stopped by to do some observing as well.

“Master Windu, Master Ti,” acknowledged Nomara.

Her greeting was returned by the two knights. Shaak Ti stood closer to her fellow Togruta by the stands—they were very alike physically, but their unique markings and clothes distinguished one from the other—they watched the session take place by the rails. The Jedi Master asked Nomara what’s already transpiring, the younger Togruta was happy to fill her in with the details.

Windu, on the other hand, stood by the banister though at a few inches away from the pair. His perpetually-furrowed eyebrows looked upon the gathered children surrounding the single proctor, he watched the older Jedi below circle the group of children with crossed arms and a curious scowl.

“Jidné?”

Despite Master Sinube’s gentle tone, the girl was still startled by the mention of her name. She looked to her friends and they subtly bobbed their heads, prompting her to move. She had no choice but to step forward, both hands clutched around the practice saber’s sleeve; Jidné’s nervous eyes found Tera Sinube returning to the center of the circle, patiently waiting as he leaned on his cane for support, then her gaze panned left and right, and then up and down—searching for some sort of visual signal to calm herself.

Her eyes found a pair of near-identical Togrutas standing next to each other at the stands, but her eyes focused on the one whose montrals had indigo patches snaking along the tapering, white tendrils. Somehow, she recognized that Togruta, and all of a sudden, the queasy stomach she had disappeared.

“Jidné, are you ready?” Sinube checked.

“Yes, Master Sinube,”

“Very good. Now, take your saber and put yourself in a stance, _any_ stance,”

The little girl took a deep breath before buckling her knees and holding her saber in a defensive stance. The old Jedi commended the child. Moments later, he summoned an older child, a blond boy whose age may play along the line of twelve or thirteen—with a single glance of the thin braid hanging behind his ear, everyone knew that he was a Padawan.

“Alright, let’s do some light sparring—while keeping in mind the lessons we learned today,” Sinube placed his hand on the blond boy’s shoulder and gently shepherded him to the spot where he stands. “Paz, you may begin with Jidné here.”

“You ready, Jidné?” Paz checked before positioning himself in a stance.

The little girl nodded, following the words of the lecture and then putting it to play. At the first few seconds of the spar, Jidné anticipated the bigger kid’s attack—she got lucky by evading Paz’s lunge by deflecting his strike, holding for a few seconds, and then pull away to recompose herself for the next attack.

This was only the beginning. Janky strikes between the two children filled the room with the blinding lights of the sabers once clashed, both Jidné and Paz with a novice’s footwork before trading strikes; the other younglings who stood close in the action as the two sparred gave way and then returned when they’ve gotten farther.

As the sparring continued, Nomara brings her chin between her two fingers as she watches the action below ensue—it’s evident she was on edge just by spectating from the stands. The other Togruta dismissed the young Seeker’s mannerism as intrigue—as one would when observing something energetic. As for Master Windu, ever so direct of a man, took note of this too, but didn’t come as gently as Shaak Ti does.

“You seem to have your eye on that girl over there,” Mace Windu points out.

“It’s because I was the one who discovered her,” Nomara spoke with a degree of pride, her private smile was just one inch shy of being a grin.

Jidné eventually came to a point where she used a little bit of the Force out of impulse—outstretching her open hand at him caused him to stagger a few paces back from her. When she succeeded, she bought the opportunity to deliver a flurry of blows; it invigorated her when she pulled off a spinning deflect—a heat of the moment sort of thing, despite being a basic spin—which denied Paz a hit on her when he thought he found a window of opportunity.

The other masters continued their observation, Jidné and Paz’s sparring passively encouraged the other children. It concluded when both children had each other at swordpoint—their sabers hovering mere inches above the shoulder. Jidné and Paz quickly retracted their sabers and bowed while facing each other, a customary greeting amongst the Jedi, old and young alike. Tera Sinube hushed the excited children squirming in place and commanded them to settle down, promising them their own chance to spar.

Jidné and Paz were allowed to catch a breather while the other children prepare themselves, Tera Sinube briefly lectured the children again—reminding them of the practicalities of the assignment so as not allow the excitement cloud their senses. While waiting, the little girl surveyed the stands above them, she angled her head where she spotted the Togrutas together and searched for the one with the particular montral pattern.

 _There you are…_ Jidné thought, fixating her eyes on the younger-looking Togruta.

Nomara sensed Jidné’s gaze piercing her, she slightly craned her head to the side where the girl and boy sat and waited. Despite their distance from one another, the Togruta flashed a small smile as her eyes met with the girl’s once more.


	15. Forged Bonds

**_25 BBY_ **

Nomara afforded a whole day to meditate in the designated chambers within the temple. Lately, she has been having visions, though indistinct, and she could hear sounds but can’t completely understood what they’re saying. However, they weren’t negative feelings and yet they still intrigued her—motivating her to pursue the reality of these visions until they’re as clear as the things she sees with her naked eye.

Master Loriq joined her, settling himself on the seat across hers. He brought his legs up on the cushion and crossed them together, he sat with a venerable poise that made him appear respectable and noble. Despite his nearly-silent entrance, Nomara continued to meditate unable to acknowledge the man who went into the room; her former master found a serene expression on her face—remaining very still and relaxed, the only movement he caught was the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes.

Not meaning to interrupt, Loriq sensed the conclusion of the young Togruta’s meditation.

“Your thoughts dwell on the child, Nomara,” he uttered out of the blue.

“Frankly, because of the promise I guaranteed to her mother, Master. There is also another thing,” her response caused the older Jedi to shift in his seat, leaning an inch forward to listen closely. “It’s likely that her strong connection with the Force factors to it, but in a way I can’t really explain… Perhaps, to simply put it, I feel like I am the only one fully aware of her capability and potential as a Jedi.”

The old master gave himself a moment to ponder on this. He slightly slouched, propping his elbow atop his lap as he rubbed his bearded chin.

He smacked his lips, “The Force bridged your and Jidné’s energies, perhaps it began the moment you discovered her.”

This response caused Nomara’s head to slightly bob sideways and her eyebrows pulled with a hybrid of confusion and fascination.

“But Master Yoda said attachments are forbidden,” Nomara counter-argued.

“The Force linking you and child together is an attachment in a certain point of view, but not in the exact same definition the Jedi Masters in the Council believe in—the kind that they forbid. I wouldn’t deny the ways of the Force intervening with any occurrence at all, I’d like to think it is its way of communicating to us without the need of words.”

“If you look at it that way, Master, that kind of does make sense. Just a bit too much to wrap my head around it,”

The old master chuckled at the comment of his apprentice, she is still young and has a long way to go—both as a Jedi and a Seeker, he hoped that her post as such would allow her to see things in various perspectives.

“Nomara, if we sever ourselves from our feelings—whether towards ourselves or others—what does that make us then? The living Force is all about connecting those around you. It may be difficult to comprehend today, but you will soon. That is something the Jedi are lacking in virtue right now.”

“You’re lucky you’re confiding this only to me, Master Yoda and Master Windu would _strongly_ disagree with you,” the Togruta meant that as a half-joke to which Master Caius received positively and agreed with.

“Even Master Qui Gon thinks likewise. If I could name all the Jedi who think similarly like he and I, perhaps the count could only fit within my one hand,” said Master Caius spoke in a dismal tone, somewhat hoping that there were more who wouldn’t dismiss his perspective as odd and “not the Jedi way” as some called it.

“I hope to become as open and wise about the Force as you are, Master,” Nomara consoled.

Loriq quickly zones out of his somber trance and then places his hand atop his apprentice’s shoulder with such affirmation, quickly squeezing it as they both shared small, sober smiles at one another. He excuses himself and prepares to leave the room in Nomara’s solitude.

“Master, another query,”

The Togruta stopped the man from getting closer to the door. Master Caius angles his entire body to face his apprentice.

“What is it, Nomara?”

Nomara had the words piling at the tip of her tongue already, she thought it was a bold question, and so she took a deep breath before speaking it out.

“If I were to become a mentor…” she trailed. “I hope to be as good as you.”

Her words intrigued the master, but it warmed him as well. He sensed that she yearned affirmation when she said those words. The old master had an inkling of her motive between the lines of her sentence, not once did he shun her for her ambitions or aspirations, in fact, he supported and encouraged her greatly—something that he found nearly absent amongst the Jedi.

“Worry not, Nomara, I believe you are more than ready than you think,” and with that, Master Caius gave a slow yet curt bow at the Togruta before departing the meditation chamber.

During one of the Initiates’ Training, Yoda personally visited the stands and observed the children. Jidné in particular seemed to have shown great potential—she was both athletic and nimble, her lack of brute strength against the bigger children were compensated for her dexterity.

Her performance has impressed the mentors, but one of her most prominent traits is her innate impulse to help those in need. Nomara spotted Jidné helping her two friends, Brese and Leane, in the middle of a practical application phase of the lesson.

“Bend your knees a little like this, Leane, that way there’s more balance for you!” Jidné coached.

“So…” Leane mimicked Jidné’s posture, lightsaber in hand. “L-Like this?”

“That’s it! You got it!” the girl squealed and quickly resumed her own stance.

“Kinda makes it less likely for me to fall off!” Brese added, Jidné agreed to the young Nautolan boy and then passed that knowledge to Leane.

The three younglings then faced their individual training spheres. They managed to block and deflect the non-lethal yet stinging blasts of the hovering balls, the three of them celebrated briefly but Master Yoda—who was today’s proctor—decided to challenge the children. With one hand, he summoned a number of large helmets that were too big for the younglings’ heads. Using the Force, each and every helmet was worn on their heads by Master Yoda’s whim.

“How are we gonna see the targets?!” Brese exclaimed openly, speaking for everyone in the room.

“The Force will guide you! Your surroundings, it connects you to, hmm.”

There wasn’t exactly any room for argument there. The younglings prepared themselves, the once tight and confident grips around their sabers became shaky and clammy—their self-esteem was left in the dark when the visors came down.

Some of them managed to deflect the shots, but only for a few times or so until they were stung in the arm, shoulder, or leg. The others never resumed the proper stances anymore, they simply stood erect while waving their lightsabers in the direction of the training drones. Jidné, on the other hand, buckled herself slightly—she was still unsure on where the drone was going in front of her, sometimes her saber doesn’t even go in the same direction as the drone does, but she remained focused.

In the last minute, she was able to deflect one shot. The drone zoomed to its upper left, Jidné turned her head to that direction—despite being virtually blind—and waved her saber around, antsy for more shots to deflect. It was a bit of a stretch, but she hoped she’d be given a barrage of it—that’s simply her being overly-excited with the thrill of success.

“Ow!”

Jidné’s clean streak of four blocks was cut by the fifth shot stinging her shoulder. Nomara—along with the other Jedi visiting the stands—examined Jidné’s demonstration. The whole time, the Togruta was stricken with the child’s progress over time. The youngling seems to have honed her lightsaber skills, even though they’re most probably still learning Form I: Shii-Cho.

At that moment, Nomara Anesh has fully made up her mind.

* * *

_**24 BBY** _

The most opportune time for Nomara to speak up has come.

She waited outside the Council’s door, patient and impatiently at the same time. The longer she stood by the door, the more anxious she became. She rubbed her clammy hands together until the warmth fizzled out the jolting nerves underneath her skin.

The hiss of the door startled her, no one was there to greet her in, the door opening by itself gestured her to come in the Council Chambers. Nomara had only gotten a few paces into the chamber, from there she found all of the masters in their respective seats, her eyes quickly surveyed and named them mentally one by one.

She put herself in the center of the room. All of the masters gave either a piercing glance or an inquisitive, gentle one—Masters Aayla Secura, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, and Yaddle to name a few, were the latter.

“Seeker Anesh,” initiated Mace Windu, a quick gesture of the hand served as his greeting.

She bowed to return the acknowledgement before speaking her piece.

The green, sage Jedi Master slowly lifted his eyelids and then angled his head up to acknowledge Nomara’s presence—even though he already has when she stepped into the room.

“A request?” Yoda inquired.

Nomara shakes away the non-existent anxiety that the masters’ gazes inflicted on her as she stands at the very center of the council chamber, she hugged herself with her arms tightly underneath her sleeves—mentally rehearsing how she’s going to begin her speech.

“I wish to train the youngling I discovered,”

The Jedi’s long, pointed ears pricked up.

“Little Jidné Sheedra, hmm?”

Nomara nodded in reply.

All of the Council members knew that it was Nomara who brought Jidné into the Temple, but only a handful of them were aware of the young Togruta’s watchful eye over the youngling—unbeknownst to them, this is Nomara filling in her end of the promise.

“This is most unusual,” Ki-Adi-Mundi commented amidst the silence. “Normally, younglings are not assigned to a master until they finish the final phase of their training.”

“Jidné has not yet completed the Initiate Trials,” Windu interjected. “She and her batch will have yet to undergo the Apprentice Tournament in a month’s time.”

“Yes, Master Windu, I am aware,”

“Pursuing to train the child to become your Padawan learner…” Yoda trailed off. “Your Seeker position, you must give.”

“I understand and I have come to terms with myself on that subject,” Nomara’s voice firmed. “I am willing to relinquish my position as a Jedi Seeker, in exchange of me being allowed to become Jidné Sheedra’s mentor if she passes the Initiate Trials.”

“I sense that there is a much deeper reason within your request, young Anesh,” Plo Koon politely adds, leaning away from the backrest of his seat.

Nomara felt the need to finally disclose the promise she made to Tymara. In the middle of her piece, she blinked fast many times, coming upon a realization—stemming from that one promise, she and Jidné had already forged a bond. In the exact second when Nomara promised the mother that her daughter will be taken care of it, the Force has already molded and sealed their link. The other masters sensed the young Togruta’s conviction and commended her for it. The masters noticed her trail off and then pick herself up and her words.

They deliberate on the spot with mere glances amongst one another. Nomara hung her head low while keeping her eyes on the masters speaking with their eyes. It didn’t take long for them to come to a decision.

“Very well,”

Nomara’s head perked up from Mace Windu’s two simple words.

“Jidné Sheedra is to be your Padawan _if_ she passes the Apprentice Tournament,”

Nomara is immensely elated. She couldn’t contain her excitement, the least she can do to hold herself is bite her lip. She struggled to calm and recompose herself, when she did—she thanked the Council as a whole, bowing to them ceaselessly before departing the room.

As soon as the young Togruta was out of the room, the masters exchanged looks once again. They’re intrigued by the connection manifesting within Nomara and Jidné, even if they haven’t fully interacted with one another quite closely.

One month seems to have passed by so quickly.

Jidné, Brese, Leane, and the other younglings eagerly waited for this day. But now that the time has come, they’re not sure if what they’re feeling is uncontainable excitement or nerve-racking anxiety or a mix of both.

“You guys ever ready?” Brese in the middle asked his two friends.

“Well, kinda…” Jidné shrugged her shoulders.

“My hands are sweaty!” Leane grumbled.

For the first time in these younglings’ lives, it’s only this day when they’ve seen the stands to be filled to the brim. Looking back to their training days, the number could only fit within each of their own two hands; now, there seems to be no space left between one Jedi to the other.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this…?” Leane whimpered.

Jidné rests her hand on her friend’s shoulder, consoling her, “Don’t worry, Leane. We’ll make it—the three of us.”

By rote, a flock of thirty-two younglings shall be pitted against one another in pairs. Prior to the day of the tournament, the children were already briefed on the rules and how it will go; one day before the tournament itself, they already know who they’re dueling with.

They were also forewarned that the masters will be observing them, the coaches did their best in quelling the pre-tournament anxiety that they’ve borne into the younglings’ heads. Although fazed and ridden with anxiety—so much so that she couldn’t properly grip her saber—Jidné mentally coaxed herself and simply do what she keeps doing, she believed that such a mindset has taken her far.

 _I won’t let myself falter on the most important day of them all!_ She proclaimed, staring at the silver finish of her saber.

The flock of younglings were arranged in a column and split into two upon their entry to the arena, they marched in synchronization, lining up the border of the floor. Tera Sinube and Master Yoda stood at the center to give their opening remarks albeit a brief one; when the two old masters stepped away and stood under the shade of the stands—that was the first pair’s cue to come forward.

It was Brese against a green Twi’lek boy. The Nautolan boy capitalized on his innate nimbleness during the battle and keeping mind of Jidné’s own tips during their practical lessons—which he and Leane found greatly helpful.

A duel would normally last less than half an hour, depending on the caliber of both children. This is the only time the younglings would go all out with everything they’ve learned. Five pairs later, it was Leane against another human girl—both of them sensed one another’s anxiety, but eventually got into the thrill of the action. Green sabers clashed against one another, shining bright light around the arena as one parries the other—while not admittedly as strong as the bigger children, Leane was flexible and lithe like Brese, she was able to dodge and make a quick follow-up attack seconds after her evasion.

Jidné was only able to quell her nervousness by quietly supporting her friends from where she stood. Flashing secret smiles at them when they look her way.

“That child has an innate ability to put people at ease,” Loriq thought out loud, exclusively within Nomara’s earshot.

Nomara smiled, reminiscing the moments where Jidné makes everyone smile all too easily, beginning from the moment where she was staying over in their house in Eshyn.

“Yes, I think so too,” she concurred.

Now it was Jidné’s turn. Paz was standing beside her, the tall blond boy cheered her on, whispering “Good luck!” to her before she’d step forward. She beamed a smile and whispered back a quick “Thanks!” and then patted her saber dangling by her belt.

Jidné is pitted against a Mirialan boy. As per tradition, they bowed at one another upon stepping into the center, afterwards they take a step back to draw their sabers. The Mirialan’s green saber contrasted heavily with Jidné’s purple saber. The opponent was indeed nimble, at par with Jidné’s dexterity, but what the girl did next surprised everyone.

This was the very first time Jidné demonstrated her Force Shroud, although she’s still in the middle of refining it herself.

Regardless, she was able to render herself almost invisible—the lights and the gray walls helped her blend in, leaving a trail of visible Force waves lingering in the air. The Mirialan boy’ frenzied eyes did little to aid him in spotting his opponent, only at the last minute did he sense the girl from behind him and deflected her attack, she re-materialized when their sabers met. It was flimsy on his end, but struggled to avoid fumbling.

They continued to trade strikes one after the other, Jidné read her opponent taking on the rather aggressive approach with little to no defensiveness, thus she took advantage of her dexterity and evaded the charging attacks of the Mirialan boy. Whenever he would deliver a hail of attacks at her, Jidné deflected them with clean forms and coordinated footwork. Having her purple saber’s tip hovering just mere inches in front of the boy’s nose, that concluded her duel. The two younglings flashed an impressed grin at one another before doing the customary bow post-fight.

“Your youngling shows a lot of promise,” Loriq commented. “Her skill with the Force is impressive as well, despite being a little rough around the edges.”

The remainders of the tournament proceeded down to the very last pair. When the event concluded, the masters dispersed and conversed with one another in murmurs, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands as they judge the younglings who have caught their eye.

The younglings who were done with their turn were instructed to retire to the Initiates’ dormitory to rest. Brese and Leane waited for Jidné’s duel to end before going together which has become a joint habit of theirs.

“You were great, Jidné! I bet a lot of masters are gonna come asking you to be their Padawan!” Brese beamed.

“I think you and Leane were pretty great too!” Jidné clapped Leane’s and Brese’s shoulders with her two hands. For her next few sentences, she’s become more animated as they walked along the halls. Her upbeat attitude made the two children laugh, practically washing away their anxieties from earlier.

“The way you two went—POW! And then Leane went—WOOSH!! Aww, it was awesome! No doubt about it, you two, I think we did a great job in impressing the masters!”

Jidné added a comical kick and punched the air in the uppercut to visualize what she meant. Her post-fight energy doesn’t seem to be running out any time soon.

“I’m glad you think our training will pay off, Jidné! It kinda makes me feel better about myself,” Leane chuckled gleefully, the heaviness that anchored in her stomach melted away after being infected with Jidné’s cheerfulness.

Jidné hooked Leane’s neck with her arm, nudging her closer until they’re cheek-to-cheek, “Aw come on, Leane, you’re such a worrywart! How many times do I have to tell you you’re great? Though I don’t mind saying it over and over!”

The next morning, Jidné was summoned to one of the lecture chambers, a warden has personally come to their room to call her. She and Leane exchanged puzzled glances but eventually she followed the servant out of their room.

“Did… Did I do something wrong?” Jidné asked when she walked up to the servant.

The servant chuckled, amused and endeared, “No, Jidné. But you’ll find out soon enough. Run along now.”

Jidné turned behind her, to her friend Leane, and waved at her before disappearing into the grand halls of the Temple. The girl navigated her way to the turbolift leading to the wing where the lecture halls are located. She eventually reached that specific room the servant had told her, with the push of a button the door retracted into its frame—revealing Master Yoda standing with a tall Togruta. Jidné recognized the second Jedi, it was the one who always watched at the stands, she recalled that this Jedi was also watching during the tournament last night.

The girl entered the room and stepped closer to the pair of Jedi Masters.

“I… I was told to come here by one of the wardens,”

“Indeed, you were, Jidné,” Master Yoda waddled towards the child, pegging the floor with his cane as he walked.

“Did… Did I do something wrong?”

The green, ancient Jedi chuckled delightfully, not intending to dismiss the child’s worry but rather uplift her spirit.

“Sought you, a master has; a Padawan, you are to be,”

The child’s eyes lit up, her heart skipped a beat, and her lips parted. Did her ears deceive her? No, she’s sure she’s heard it correctly.

The Togruta walked up to Yoda’s side, facing Jidné as well. She flashed a gentle, warm smile upon seeing the twinkle over the gloss of the child’s dark, soulful eyes.

“Hello, Jidné,”

“Hello,” she cooed.

“My name is Nomara Anesh, it’s nice to meet you…” Nomara stifled a chuckle. “ _Again_.”

Jidné’s smile relaxed a bit and she bobbed her head to the side, “Eh? Again?”

Nomara smiled and knelt to the little girl’s height.

“I was the Jedi who found you and brought you here,”

The youngling’s grin reappeared, stretching from ear-to-ear, and the glint in her eyes shone twice as bright as the first one. The girl’s energy contrasted with her new master’s calm, warm, and kind demeanor.

“Really!? You did?!”

“That’s right,”

“That’s amazing!!” the girl leaped and squealed, butterflies filled her stomach so much that she could feel them coming out of her throat any moment now. “It’s strange though—but in a good way—that you’ve always felt familiar to me. But now that you’ve told me you’re the one who brought me here, that explains it… LIKE A WHOLE LOT!”

Jidné threw her arms up to emphasize her last words, her enthusiasm delighted Nomara; but when she realized that she’s behaving a bit too excitedly, she straightened herself up in the presence of Master Yoda and cleared her throat.

“Truly wonderful and pure her heart is,” Yoda commented, gesturing the girl to be at ease as there’s no need for such formality.

“Are you up for the task as my apprentice, Jidné?”

“Am I ever?!”

Nomara smiled at the child’s optimism. Deep inside her, she made a promise to herself to protect Jidné—not out of the obligation of a promise, but out of genuine love and care for the girl. Perhaps watching over her took her some time to realize, but it’s better late than never.


	16. Memory in a Shallow Grave

**_23 BBY_ **

Jidné passed the time by studying the Holocrons she borrowed from the Archives, she came across Master Kit Fisto’s Holocron wherein he has discovered the ancient lightsaber modification that allows one’s saber to function underwater as it would on dry land. The little Padawan was intrigued and fascinated, so she set aside the other datacrons to listen to this particular one.

For the rest of the afternoon, she whiled away in reviewing the instructions and carefully studied the cross-sections. She realized that in order for this modification to work, she will need a second kyber crystal for the energy channels to route one another—since a single kyber would short-circuit if submerged or activated underwater.

“That would mean going to Ilum again,” Jidné thought out loud in the solace of her dorm. “I wonder if I could ask Master Anesh. I bet she’d allow me.”

“Jidné?” the disembodied voice of her master beckoned her.

The girl’s head jerked to the direction where she found the voice, she seals the Holocron shut using the Force with promptness and sees Master Anesh walking into the garden square. Jidné set aside the artifact on the bench along with her leather-bound journals where she copied the things she liked page after page, she landed on her feet as Nomara approached her little Padawan.

“I’m here, Master Anesh,”

Nomara peeked over the child’s shoulder and saw the Holocron sitting atop a small pile of notebooks.

“Have you been busy?”

“Just studying, I have something to tell you as well, Master Anesh!”

“Later, after today’s practice,”

Jidné nodded in agreement, then the master noticed the four turquoise beads adorning the end of her Padawan braid.

“Did you do something with your braid?”

“Hmm? Oh, remember our mission back in Alderaan? A peddler sold these beads. I thought the color’s pretty and they resembled the ones on your headband, so I thought of decorating my braid with it—to make it look like yours!” the Padawan girl beamed.

The radiance of her innocence endeared her master, the gesture warmed Nomara’s heart that she had to clutch her chest out of impulse.

“How sweet of you. I think it made your braid twice as prettier,”

“Thank you, Master!”

“You’re welcome. Come now, my little one, we’ve much to do for today’s practice,”

Jidné timed the moment where she can ask Master Anesh if she’ll permit to go to Ilum for that one requirement of the modification. Outspoken and carefree as ever, the Padawan girl decided to speak it out anyway before they could commence the training session.

“Master, if I may ask,”

“Yes, what is it, Jidné?”

“About your saber. Is it waterproof? I mean, can you use it underwater?” the Togruta slighted her head to the side, shooting the girl an attentive look.

“Yes, I can use it underwater. Why the sudden interest?”

“I came across a Holocron that shows how to modify the saber to make it work while in the water,”

The Togruta smiled, clearly recalling and knowing what the little Padawan is referring to.

“Ah, so _that_ Holocron over there must be a copy of Master Fisto’s,”

“Yes, well, I was wondering if…” she trailed off rather bashfully, almost too shy to speak. “I could ask permission to go to Ilum—with you, of course! To get that second crystal to make it work,”

Nomara smiled, her response to Jidné’s request birthed a wide grin across the little ten-year-old’s face. The girl sprang up and down from the floor out of sheer excitement, her ecstatic “Yes!” echod across the emptiness of the gardens.

“But first, we still have instruction. We’re going to need to work on your Force Shroud. Remember when you told me that you still had trouble in using it? Well, we’ll work on that, okay?”

The girl flashed a small smile, “I’d like that very much.”

“We’ll begin when you’re ready,”

The Padawan did a series of stretches for warm-ups, as well as her spinning exercises for her lightsaber handling. Nomara’s teaching methods were similar to how Master Caius trained her—he didn’t rely on drones and droids, he personally sparred with Nomara during her days as an apprentice as well as enemies in the battlefield.

Nomara shed off her long, brown robes—making it easier for her to engage in combat against her Padawan. In between strikes and dodges, the Jedi Master bantered with the Padawan—giving her words of affirmation or extra tips to better the girl’s combat style. Jidné showed the same amount of promise that she demonstrated in the Initiate Trials; her skill with the lightsaber amplified with Anesh’s rather hands-on method of training, motivated by the aspiration to master Form V: Shien & Djem So—which the master can clearly see in the Padawan’s pattern of movement.

“Steel your nerves, Jidné, that way your Force Shroud doesn’t falter in the slightest scare!” Nomara coached, and the sharp-witted girl took that into mind.

In the next move, Jidné did steel her nerves while cloaked within her Force Shroud, she evaded Nomara’s line of sight and studied her master’s watchfulness until she could find the window of opportunity to strike. Jidné jabbed at Nomara’s direction—to which she flexibly deflected—but immediately pulled away to mislead her master’s eyes; again, she observed the Togruta’s expression and quickly realized that Nomara is still searching for the invisible Padawan.

“Very good, Jidné!” Master Anesh commended albeit incapable to find her Padawan.

Perhaps Jidné didn’t notice it—she didn’t turn visible when she landed that jab and only found out after Master Anesh affirmed her. The child was satisfied and proud of herself, continuing in that same rhythm, the instruction carried on until dusk.

* * *

**_22 BBY_ **

A year has passed since the Clone Wars began.

Members of the Jedi Council were, by default, appointed as generals, much to their chagrin and great contrast to the principles of their Order. A handful of Jedi were also dispatched as an auxiliary military group to aid the clones in fighting the war against Separatist and the droid army.

Seeing that it couldn’t be helped, Nomara—along with her little Padawan—has been named a general. She made peace with the fact that she can never keep a protective umbrella above Jidné’s head—away from all sorts of harm and violence—given that this was the life that her mother preferred for her than digging the earth to live back in her homeworld of Eshyn.

At the disposal of the Jedi General are the 304th Battalion of clones commanded by the trooper captain—CT-7462 or Captain Gat—and a fleet spearheaded by the Venator-class cruiser named _Wayward Patriot_. The _Patriot_ became the pair’s second home after the Jedi Temple, Jidné’s only consolation and company aside from her master were the clones—which greatly fascinated her. She talked their way into their hearts with her curious questions and playful nature.

“Is training hard for you guys?” Jidné inquired.

The clone chuckled, “Well, it gets a bit tricky sometimes. I mean, it can’t be any different from your training, eh, kiddo?”

“Nah, I have it hard too, I guess,” Jidné shrugged one shoulder, then slowly breaks down into little chuckles. “Who doesn’t get their nerves worked up when they’re fighting another youngling with tons of masters and other kids watching you?”

“Ooh, that _does_ sound tough!” the second clone played along while being genuinely bemused by the girl.

Despite the war, Nomara and Jidné continued their usual days for practice and instruction. The Padawan has made progress in utilizing her Force Shroud until she can now manipulate and bend it to her will. The eleven-year-old also found it thrilling and frightening at the same time—to be exposed to such degree of violence at this early a stage of her life.

“Run along now, little Jid,” the first clone tussled the girl’s head. “General Anesh is waiting for you. Best not to keep her waiting,”

“Right, see you guys later in my free time!”

Jidné hopped and skipped through the corridors of the _Patriot_ until she found the specific room where she usually has her physical lessons with Master Anesh. She walked in on her master conversing with the clone accompanying them on the control room. The Padawan cleared her throat politely to call Nomara’s attention.

“Ah, Jidné, just in time,” Master Anesh cooed, gingerly dismissing the clone with a slow wave of the hand. “Are you ready for today’s practice?”

“Yes, Master Anesh,”

“Very good,” the Togruta turned to the terminal to press a pattern of buttons and then beckoned her Padawan. “Come now, my little one.”

The two of them descended from the control room for the ground level of the room via a turbolift. When they walked to the center of the room, Nomara held up a small remote in hand—with the single touch of a button, the tiles of the floor started to rise, take shape, hover and stick to the walls. The shifting and changing of the environment startled Jidné at first, but she got the hint.

“I didn’t know this room has _that_!” she beamed.

“It’s very conducive for using skills that you’ll often be utilizing in the battlefield,”

“I’m ready, Master!”

“I like your enthusiasm, Jidné,” Nomara smiled back. “Alright then, whenever you’re ready.”

Beginning with the physical exercises, little Jidné did her personalized set of stretches, she also studied the room—how it looked like, where the blocks are for her to take cover or use to her advantage—with a single passing glance before signaling her master to commence.

“Remember what I taught you, little one,”

“I always do, Master!”

The tile where Master Anesh elevated her until she stands in the same level as the control room, her pedestal remotely stayed in that height. Meanwhile, Jidné remained in the ground, her senses keening as she continues to study the structure of the room—given that the tiles and blocks can change at any given moment of Nomara’s command—while anticipating for her master’s starting signal.

Turrets unfolded from the ceiling of the room, their loud whirring alerted the girl, Nomara forewarned the girl that the guns were configured with non-lethal projectiles set for a training setting.

“Shall we begin, Jidné?”

The girl buckled, “Ready when you are, Master!”

Observing the Padawan scamper across the room, evading blaster fire here and there, Nomara can’t help but ponder to herself in her mind as she watched the girl skillfully evade and deflect the projectiles.

_She has become more adept than I either hoped or imagine. That’s good. She’s learned to be strong and willful with the Force._

Her thinking led her to become off-guard of other thoughts. Out of the blue, the whistling noise the turrets made whenever they fire stimulated blurry images and incoherent sounds ringing in Nomara’s drums. She brought her hand to her head, massaging the base of her montral as she struggled to ease the sudden heaviness that she feels within her but couldn’t find.

* * *

**_20 BBY, THE DAY OF THE JEDI PURGE_ **

Jidné joined her master in the conference at the bridge comprised of the admiral manning the _Patriot_ , real-time hologram projections of the Jedi Generals Plo Koon, Depa Billaba and her Padawan Caleb Dume joining the transmission. Jidné recognized Caleb as she has met him during a joint campaign with their masters; the two children smiled at one another upon finding each other in the conference.

The masters concurred in giving each other reinforcement if the need arises. Jidné intently studied the projections flashing in the holotable, reading the inscriptions and data numbers floating beside the diagrams of the weapons and map.

“May the Force be with us all,” Plo Koon bade, not out of custom but out of heart before his projection fizzled out of existence, followed by the other Jedi Masters and the other Padawan.

Nomara released a long sigh, she remained leaning by the edge of the table, her hand brought to her lip as she spaced out into deep thought. Jidné noticed this and didn’t disturb her until she opened her eyes again. The little girl wondered if the Togruta had the same thoughts she’s been having of late, she meant to disclose it to her master but they’ve been piled with tons of transmissions as the tension of the war rages on.

“There seems to be no end, does it, little one?”

“I suppose so, Master, but… We _are_ doing a big help, aren’t we?”

The Togruta noticed the little girl’s tone to have mellowed but there’s a tinge of concern to it. Nomara places her hand gingerly on her dear Padawan’s head, stroking her hair down to her beaded Padawan braid.

“Yes, we are. It’s our job as peacekeepers to stop this kind of destruction from disturbing the planets who don’t deserve and need chaos,”

The master’s words did little to console the girl, despite managing a smile at the Togruta, the feeling of being downtrodden persisted within the young learner. Nomara then shepherded the child to the hangar where their starships await them. Along the way, Jidné didn’t seem to be herself lately.

“Your silence says a lot on your mind, child,”

Jidné jumped a bit, startled that her master pointed out her silence.

“Master, something doesn’t feel right. Please tell me you feel it, too,” it was unusual for Jidné to speak in a hushed tone, Nomara sensed the pang of worry that rung between the words of her Padawan.

She thought she had fully buried that worry into the recesses of her mind, but she was proven otherwise when the same heavy feeling returned to her—clutching and wrenching at her core. It was a bothersome feeling that she can’t exactly pinpoint… at least not yet.

“Yes, I have, my little Padawan. Although, much like yourself, I cannot seem to place my finger where it originates,”

Deploying from the underbelly of the _Patriot,_ Nomara and Jidné’s starfighters led on a squadron of fighter pilots to the surface. The vessels dotted the sky in a crisp V-formation and circled the perimeter of the city in Modala, where thousands—if not hundreds—of battle droids were marching in organized blocks and columns, with the superweapon guarded in the middle of the formation.

“Cleaver, make sure you charge and prepare your ion cannons. We’re going to put that superweapon completely out of commission before it could reach the legislative building!” Nomara barked through her radio.

The fleet of fighters closed in on the surface, getting more range at the enemy by the minute. The droid army was alerted when their radars and scanners picked up a multitude of signatures coming from the Jedi’s fleet and their clones. The sight of their ships caused panic among the sentient, metal beanpoles that are the battle droids.

Nomara forewarned the entire fleet to disperse once the high-intensity ion cannon is fired. When the signal was given, all of the ships flew away from the blast radius that could disable their ships’ auxiliary and main power grids and made a running pass around the perimeter to find a safe landing spot.

“Prepare to continue this on land!”

Jidné licked her lips, a smug smirk curled on her face, “This is where the fun begins!”

The ground assault was tense. The flock of LAAT gunships assisted Nomara from the air, amplifying their firepower against the approaching droids and their superweapon.

Lightsaber in hand, both master and apprentice charged through the line of battle, deflecting blaster fire and cutting down the battle droids by the numbers until they could reach the building in the heart of the city.

The battle was won, but not the war. What seemed to be only hours felt like days, the Jedi and her Padawan have secured the legislative building as the Separatist general who hid in it willingly relinquished it after being arrested. Despite their victory today, Master Anesh could not shake the dark feeling that lingered within her heart.

“General Anesh,” a clone approached the pair to report, standing just behind Jidné. “We’ve made a sweep in the building. The captives and the guards have been freed and are taken to a medical ward in the city.”

“Very good news, please relay that to me later for my report to the Council,”

“Understood, General,” the captain erected his posture and saluted at the Togruta. He excused himself and was about to return to his post by the door, but in the middle of his walk, he answered an incoming transmission labeled as urgent.

 _Execute Order 66._ Groaned an ancient, raspy voice through the muffled feedback of the clone trooper’s comlink.

The Togruta turned her attention to her little Padawan, overlooking the city through the window of the office space.

“Now that Modala’s been freed, are we going to give Master Plo or Master Billaba some reinforcements?”

“That still depends, my little one, we have yet to expect their transmiss—” Nomara abruptly left her sentence hanging, her hand instinctively went to the base of her montral, her fingers curling around the fullness of the horn to alleviate the aching but to no avail.

“Master, are you okay?” Jidné’s voice shuddered.

At the corner of her eye, Nomara spotted the clone aiming his rifle straight at the child’s head; the Padawan noticed the steely look in her master’s eyes and followed its direction, looking over her shoulder only to be face-to-face with the hole of a blaster’s barrel. Everything seemed move in slow motion, her heartbeat was the only thing ringing in her eardrums; the adrenaline sharpened her reflexes and senses, the Togruta brandished her saber, pushed the girl out of the line of fire and then cut down the clone. Jidné registered everything when the deed was done.

“Wha—what was that!? Was he gonna shoot me?! What’s going on?!” Jidné bombarded her master with question who was still recovering from the nausea.

“Jidné, something’s not right. Something’s _very_ wrong,” Nomara panted. “Our clones have betrayed us. We need to leave this place. Now!”

“They’re in here!” the shout of a clone roared through the door, muffling his voice.

Nomara thought fast, she locked the door using the Force and laid out the escape plan to the girl as concisely as possible. However, they were cut short when one of the clones planted a sticky bomb to the door. The master and apprentice quickly cut down the clones that were coming after them, even after that run-in, neither of them withdrew their sabers.

“Where do we go from here?” Nomara thought out loud.

The Padawan peeked over the window again and saw that their starfighters were still intact.

“Master! Our starfighters!”

Both of them vaulted over the desk where they took cover, but before they could leave the room and run out into the open—with the risk of being chased by their clones—the Togruta grabbed Jidné by the shoulder and knelt to her Padawan’s height. Her plan was to split up—making herself live bait to lure out the clones so that Jidné can get to the ships safely. Of course, Jidné preferred sticking close with her master as much as possible, but Nomara tried to talk her into it.

“Whatever happens, _you run._ Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jidné shuddered. Unable to contain her fear, she threw herself into Nomara’s arms and the Togruta embraced her Padawan in the tightest she could.

Master Anesh held the girl’s small face in her elegant hands, “Now, be brave. Don’t look back. I’ll be right with you. I promise.”

Jidné nodded, in turn, her master mouthed “Go” and the little Padawan girl bolted through the halls. Her legs carried her fast as they could, evading the clones whose senses are now on high-alert for both Jedi and Padawan. As much as she wanted to use her Force Shroud, the sheer levels of stress intervened with her focus—being able to only use it for a few minutes’ worth of running—when she felt that she’s re-materializing, she hugged the walls before turning around a corner to see if the coast was clear.

 _What went wrong? What changed?_ These questions screamed and ricocheted on the walls of her skull, and were answered by missed blaster fire and angry shouts of the clones, claiming that they’ve spotted the Jedi running.

“Where’s the little girl!?”

“She’ll come around, get the Jedi!”

Jidné crept to another path in the intersection, she was too busy focusing on the two clones who were in the corner that she didn’t notice the clone in the path where she’s heading into and bumped into his side. The clone was understandably startled, but upon sight of the Padawan, he swung his rifle and struck her across the face, a portion of the weapon had scraped the skin—producing a cut on her cheekbone.

The young Padawan was too frightened and confused to think fast, she crawled backwards—away from the Stormtrooper who was already aiming the barrel at her heart, until an indigo beam of light flew his way, cutting through his torso forward and then another when the lightsaber was spinning back to the direction of its owner.

“Jidné! Are you alright?!”

“Yes, Master Anesh!”

A clone appears out of the corner at the end of the hallway, “The Jedi and the little girl are here! Don’t let them escape!!!”

“This way, child! Come on!”

“Coming, Master!”

The two bolted through the grand, luxurious hallways now strewn with bodies of clones—both from the siege and their betrayal against the Jedi. The closer they think they’re getting to the exit where their starships are, the farther the clones push them in—cornering them into the building like mice in a maze.

Eventually, the clones have led them into the central foyer of the legislative building where they surround the master and her Padawan in a circle. This wasn’t part of Nomara’s plan, so she collected all of her might in her body—while praying to the Force to be with her—and then invisible yet torrential ripples exploded out of her hands, throwing the clones off of their feet and disorienting them. While there’s still a chance, before any of the clones could get back up on their feet again, both Jedi returned to following their original path.

“Keep up with me, Jidné!”

“I’m trying, Master!”

Finally! After losing their breath from evading the clones, the starships were in sight. The hope they thought was lost was regained. The two of them dashed out of the main entrance, the wake of destruction from the siege still ran fresh as smoke pillared to the heavens.

Just when they thought they’ve finally secured their escape, a line of troopers with an ARC Trooper in the middle stood in their way between the starships.

“Get behind me, little one!”

Jidné literally went back-to-back with Master Anesh, lightsaber in hand, and faced the direction of the main entrance anticipating the clones that the Togruta had disoriented using the Force. Not a moment later, the same clones from inside had reached them in the outer lobby.

“Jidné, I want you to do _exactly_ as I say, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Master…”

Nomara spoke in the calmest of voices that Jidné has ever heard amidst the chaos, “Use your Shroud. Now.”

The Padawan’s eyes widened, partially with confusion and immense horror, she had a clue of what her master’s plan is. She didn’t like it—not a single bit.

“Jidné,” Nomara spoke calmly again, but the tone of her voice was hard and strict, so as to not give away their bluff to the troopers. The Togruta’s eye glanced to the side, looking at the frightened Padawan. “Now.”

The ARC Trooper, already trigger-happy, barked at his brothers, “Blast her!!”

“JIDNÉ, NOW!!”

“NOOOOOOOO….!!!!”

In the blink of an eye, Jidné felt like she was flying—and flying she was, Nomara had used the Force on the Padawan to send her out of the line of fire. Jidné only landed a feet away from the circle of clones with the Jedi in the center, deflecting and banking away their shots with the remainders of her strength. Obviously, it was too much for one exhausted Jedi to overpower a ring of fifteen or so clone troopers shooting at her from all directions. The little girl, unaware that she had absentmindedly activated her Force Shroud, witnessed the clone troopers—the other people she called her friends ever since this war began—pelt her master’s body with blaster fire.

Nomara, her body riddled with bullet holes through her armor and clothes, spotted little Jidné—in this instance, she was surprised to be able to see Jidné while the child was under the influence of the Force Shroud, she didn’t sought for the explanation, she was glad that her dear Padawan is unseen and unharmed, although it saddened her when their eyes met; never have Nomara ever seen the little girl so stricken with terror upon what she’s seeing.

As the final fulfillment of her promise—not to the mother anymore, but to the child albeit unspoken—Nomara called upon the Force, amplifying her the nearly-fluctuating energy within her. She pulled her arm back, fist clenched in the tightest that she could hold, and struck the soil hard—this wave was _very much_ stronger than the last, the seismic magnitude of Nomara’s Force ability sent the clones _literally_ flying. Some of the clones caught in the shockwave have died from a shattered spine or a cracked skull upon impact of a rock or the stone ground when they landed.

When the wave died down, Jidné is unscathed, though she’s left with the unfathomable degree of fear that her thirteen-year-old mind couldn’t wrap around. Nomara was still standing—however she’s clinging onto the last threads of dear life as she knows it. The Padawan scrambled up to her feet and caught her master before she could fumble near-dead to the soil.

“Master…” Jidné sobbed, cradling Nomara’s head on her lap.

“Jidné…” Nomara gasped, her vision already blurring and a black ring bordered her eyes.

“I’m here, Master…!”

The master hoists her weak hand to the Padawan’s cheek, her thumb ran across a tear streaming down the girl’s face. She choked as she struggled to speak.

“Jidné… you have to go…”

“No, I can’t leave you here!”

“Please… Jidné, more of them will be coming for you,” coughed Nomara, a tear rolled over her cheek. “Save yourself… Run!”

And with that final word, the bright, sparkling teal of Nomara’s eyes have turned milky and lifeless. Jidné couldn’t yet accept the reality of her master’s death, she shook the Togruta in a hopeless plea to wake up and there was no response. Nomara’s head bobbed limply in Jidné’s scrawny arms, the strand of beads fell from the montral headband and clattered to the dust. The girl picked it up and kept it in her pocket, regretting her decision of setting up a pyre for the deceased Jedi, seeing that this would alert the other clones who might still be looking for her.

Following her master’s final request, Jidné did run. Eventually, her running has brought her into the dense urban area of Modala, the entrance of her new life while leaving behind the one she has always known.

* * *

**_CURRENT TIMELINE_ **

“And ever since then, I survived Modala… somehow. But it _still_ haunts me up to this day, I can’t seem to let go of it even if I wanted to,”

“We all have lost someone during the Jedi Purge. I know how hard it is to overcome the sadness,”

“Yeah… It’s just difficult to find more ways to cope,”

“How about making me vice president of cheering you up?”

Jidné turned her head to the boy. She chuckled, endeared by his child-like purity, a similar trait she has buried within the depths of her core, though she doesn’t realize that.

“Here, I got something for you,”

Cal produced a trinket strand similar to Jidné’s: a chain of Featherfern and Royal Fluzz buds—two for each—encased in transparent, glass beads. The Jedi girl admired the handiwork with wonderment.

“It’s a saber tassel like yours, I made it myself. My first gift as vice president of cheering you up,”

“It’s beautiful,” Jidné sighed, not wasting a second in tying it up along with her original tassel at the pommel.

She secured it with a tight double-knot, the new addition to her pommel dangled with the turquoise beads as she held it up in front of her and Cal. Finally, her tassel got prettier with the variety in color. She turned to the redhead and smiled warmly at him.

“Thank you… so much,”

“C’mere, you must be cold,” Cal cooed, lifting up his arm to open the sleeve of his poncho to offer his side to Jidné.

The girl scooted closer to the redhead’s side until his arm could wrap around her shoulder. She released what ought to be the biggest sigh to date, she felt her entire body soften up the moment Cal held her close, nuzzling his cheek against her head and curling his fingers tighter around her arm. For the first time in years, she felt safe.


	17. Deliverance

Jidné strolled to the meadow and settled herself by the bank of the waterfall’s pool, something about that spot calmed her and so she chose it as a meditation spot. She unclipped her saber from her belt, nestling it in the curve of her palm and then her other hand cradled the three strands of beads. The smooth, dainty baubles ran between her forefinger and thumb as her hand followed its length.

She clutched onto the longer strand, the chipping of the color at the edges were more visible when brought closer, the dust that never washed away reminded her of the Purge; the Jedi holds her saber with both hands with great care and devoutness.

“Master…” the air answered her call, a gust of cold wind blew the wisps of her fringe, it’s as though the wind cradled her face in its hands.

She urged herself to open her eyes, and slowly, she did just so.

Standing in front of her again is a vision of her late master, but this one is very much different than the last. A venerable air loomed around the figure of the vision, compared to the last one that felt stale, heavy, and hostile.

“You’re right, I’m may not be the Padawan you trained and hoped to be… but I’m the Padawan you left behind—along with the teachings you’ve given me all my life.”

The walking memory spoke nothing, instead, she smiled and walked closer. Nomara’s Force Ghost was just two paces shy from the line between water and land. She knelt in the same manner as her broken apprentice, now grown into a young woman and no longer a child, in Jidné’s eyes the appearance of Nomara’s ghost was so opaque that she almost seemed real.

“Master… If that was your way of testing me, then whatever the result I will accept—it just means I have a long way to go, but I know you’ll always be there to guide me… like you always have.”

Jidné wondered if her hand would feel soft, warm flesh. She was startled by the answer of her unspoken question when the Force Ghost’s hand nestled under her jaw. From that touch, her heart leaped wildly, skipping a beat one after the other; she couldn’t pinpoint if this was grief or joy—whichever it was, she perfectly knows that she’s been yearning this comforting touch from Master Anesh.

Tears streamed ceaselessly from her eyes, her breath shuddered as she tried to regain the rhythm of her breathing while savoring the feeling of Anesh’s touch—albeit only a vision. The Force Ghost never spoke a word, but the genuine, affirming smile didn’t disappear. The Jedi girl’s eyelids drooped, savoring the surreal yet warm caress of her master, she dared to hoist her own hand up to clutch back the hand… only to touch her own jaw.

Her eyes shot up and found the waterfall’s pool absent of any Force Ghost standing on the water as if it was the floor. Although, it felt like she’s had some kind of closure, and that was enough. Jidné mounted a Q’aval and she spurred the steed, galloping to an area of the forest where she and Cal have agreed to meet.

“Did I make you wait too long?” the girl beamed, dismounting the animal.

“Not really,”

The pair hiked through the forest, finding eroded structures such as a bridge over the river in the deeper part of the woods, hinting that this location must have connected to Diitana and its other villages before the overgrowth set in.

Jidné scaled the thick railing of the bridge and walked on its length like a tightrope as they walked. She slightly bobbed left and right, Cal held her one hand that’s closest to him as she continued to gently tread the bridge’s fence.

“Be careful or you’ll fall,”

“Would you catch me if I did?”

“Sure I will!”

Cal caught Jidné, holding her by the waist as she hopped down once she’s reached the end; her bead tassels faintly rattled and swung wildly after landing on the balls of her feet back onto the soil. The two were faced with a wide section of the woods, shaded by the great trees forming a large canopy over their heads—shielding them from the sun—and framed by the river snaking along the edge where the bridge stood.

At first glance, there was an eerie emptiness to it, which Cal found oddly serene and calming. He felt Jidné’s grip loosening around his fingers, he took it as a sign of caution; he takes notice of her irises carefully rolling from one side to the other, examining the breadth.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I…” she trailed off. “I thought I heard something. Probably an animal.”

The girl’s feet hesitated another step forward. Cal gently dragged her along and her legs were finally coaxed into moving. Jidné dismisses whatever it is that she felt as nothing—though her senses were still keen from earlier, the feeling that was left behind in her after that last encounter with Nomara’s Force Ghost is still fresh in her.

“What do you think was in here before?” the redhead wondered out loud.

Looking around, it seemed to be an open base until it was eventually abandoned for reasons unknown. Small structures and machines still stood, however, they’re already riddled with signs of negligence and weathering over time.

“Could’ve been a town outpost,” guessed Jidné. “Looks like one anyway.”

The two explored the desolate checkpoint, as well as ID-3 and BD-1 who filled their databanks with tons of scans around the place. Cal did more investigating rather than exploring it: picking up objects and using his Psychometry on them. He takes a small, tattered leather satchel leaning against one of the vapor towers and detects its Force Echo.

“This was place was an outpost all right, this was also a hotspot for wandering traders,”

“Until no one came here anymore,” Jidné finished.

“Wooo…” the probe droid lowed a sad yet spooked tone at Jidné’s sentence, to which she immediately consoled him that nothing’s going to hurt them in there.

On the northernmost point of the outpost was a path that may lead to the badlands, but the view comprised mostly path that connects the transitioning from desert to forest—and vice versa—as well as a view of the trenches that framed the road.

“Travelers who came from the direction of the badlands surely stopped here for rest and restocking supplies, until they reached Diitana,” the girl hypothesized.

“Well, that does explain some of the cluttered stuff. Do you think they were in a hurry to leave?”

“More like in a hurry to _run,_ ”

Cal shot her a look with a raised eyebrow, “From what?”

Both heads jerked to the empty space in front of them, their attention drawn by an incoherent roar in the distance followed by the rustling of the treetops and startled birds.

“Probably that,” blurted the girl.

“Come on, let’s mosey on other places where that _thing_ won’t find us,”

It was most unusual for a pair of Jedi to take a stroll into the heart of the forest, though the fresh air that filled their lungs and the tranquility put their worries at bay. They came across another bank and rested there, refreshing their parched throats with the sweet, clear water.

“You know, you fit right in the crew,” Cal blurted out of nowhere.

The girl turned around and sat beside the redheaded Jedi, curious to know more with what he said.

“Oh?” she drew her legs up so she can rest her chin atop her knees. “You’d want me to tag along?”

“Why not? We can travel as a pair with our ships, I didn’t say we’d leave your freighter behind,”

Jidné smiled at the idea. She felt warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, then her mind began imagining what misadventures she, Cal, and the crew would bump into. The Mantis crew had a different flavor of fun in their mishaps, Jidné almost missed that feeling—it would’ve been nice to experience it all over again, this time, she won’t be alone in doing so.

“You’ll have more time to think about it later,” Cal leaned closer and planted a kiss on her forehead, the quick peck took her by surprise—the same way his kiss on her cheek did—and scrambled up to his feet, offering her his hand in the next second.

They decided to take on the path where the road connects the forest and badlands—a canyon pass, which they learned its moniker from the locals: the Red Wall. They stepped out of the green and yonder into the blood-orange trench. The roof of the trench was a gaping space where the sun managed to peek its rays through, as the two walls of rock split open to produce a wide, winding path.

As one would expect, the desert was barren and almost devoid of anything organic. The canyon was no stranger to that setting. The wind was beginning to pick up and dust was pricking the two youngsters’ faces so they shield themselves with the flaps of their cowl and poncho until the gust dies down. When it did, ID-3’s rather sensitive scanners were picking a signal, his tiny satellite dish spinning erratically on his head.

“What is it, ID?”

“BEEE-TRILL!!! CHIRP!”

“What?!”

Before Jidné could understand what ID-3 meant by “a lot of Imperial signals” the collective clicking sound of blaster rifles being cocked came from all directions, white-clad figures started materializing through the setting sand, but what alarmed the two young Jedi the most was the sound of a third saber being activated—followed by a throaty yet feminine chuckle.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cal moaned.

The sand had finally cleared, and just like in Jidné’s memory, they were surrounded by Stormtroopers, led by a red female Twi’lek clad in a black ensemble with the bright white insignia of the Empire stamped on her gauntlets.

The Sixth Sister carried herself in a menacing yet graceful stride, emphasizing her height over the pair whom she perceived as mere children; her lightsaber—as crimson as her skin-glowed in her hand, while a smirk plays along the edge of her lips.

Cal ignited her saber upon sight of the new Inquisitor, readying himself in a defensive starting stance as he usually does, the smirk in the enemy’s lips grew. Due to his spiked alertness, he didn’t realize that Jidné hasn’t activated hers, instead, she stuck close against his back—quite reminiscent of her final scenario with Master Anesh against their clone troopers.

“Well, well,” the Inquisitor uttered in a singsong tune. Her eyes examined the boy from head to toe, her mouth finally stretched across her face to reveal a pearly white, fanged grin. “Look what we have here.”

“You’re new,” Cal blurted.

“And _you_ must be Cal Kestis,” the Sixth Sister cooed. “Do me a favor and stand still while we cuff you up. Unless, you wanna do this the hard way.”

She peeked over Cal to find Jidné taking a sideways glance over her own shoulder.

“Well done, Jidné, just like Lord Vader asked—though a little overdue, if I may say so,”

Jidné’s eyebrows furrowed together until her forehead creased. Her heart raced so ceaselessly that her breathing couldn’t possibly keep up. Her brain sent out a string of sentences—almost causing a haywire—that when spoken, it’d be so fast-paced to comprehend, but the only thing that stuck in her head is Vader.

Cal’s mind as well ran endlessly and yet couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the Sixth Sister had just said. His grip around the hilt shook and loosened, eyes wide with bewilderment and confusion as he slowly turns to the girl he thought was an ally.

“Ji-Jidné…? You?”

The Inquisitor read the room and chortled once.

“You never told him?” she then turned to Cal. “She was sent out to get you—because apparently you have something of _great importance_ to Lord Vader.”

Cal heard the Twi’lek but didn’t listen, he kept his eyes on Jidné, desperately searching for the truth to come out of her mouth or see it in her eyes.

“You’re a bounty hunter? And you never told me?”

“I was going to hand you over…” she murmured only within his earshot, the pressure’s taking its toll on her that she doesn’t have the strength to make her voice louder. “Until I decided not to anymore.”

Before Cal could even process what she meant, the Twi’lek signaled the Stormtoopers—one of them produced binders for Cal, another shoved Jidné away for her to watch him be apprehended right in front of her, whilst the rest of them close in around with caution around the Jedi boy. By instinct, Cal fought back—particular the Stormtrooper who held the cuffs and the other who pushed Jidné away.

A single swing of his saber and the Sixth Sister brandished hers in the speed of lightning. The boy could feel the glow pulsing out of the red beam hovering at mere inches away from his only flawless cheek.

“I wouldn’t go for it if I were you, ginger,” the Twi’lek blurted.

Cal lowered his saber and switched it off, prompting the Stormtroopers to continue what they should be doing to him. The trooper confiscated the Jedi’s weapon and took his hands to his back and secured the metal binders around his wrists. Deep inside Jidné, she wanted to whip out her saber and take them all on—she even dared in her mind to face the Sixth Sister—but it would be doubly difficult for herself and Cal, should he ever choose to back her up.

“Take him away,” Sixth Sister aloofly waved her hand, gesturing at the troopers to put Cal into the transport shuttle at the end of the trench.

“No…!” Jidné exclaimed out of the blue.

The Inquisitor immediately reacted to it, “No?”

She made a back-and-forth glance between the cuffed boy and the girl standing there frozen, another sardonic laugh came out of her throat and she felt the need to tilt her head back for emphasis.

“Oooh, dear gods!” she sighed. “Honey, you can’t be serious?”

The two Jedi stood there in silence, eyes shifting between one another and then to the Sixth Sister, this urged her to elaborate. She strode towards Jidné and cupped her jaw, taking the Jedi girl by surprise; she tried to fight it, slightly thrashing her head to shake off the Inquisitor’s grasp but to no avail.

“Don’t tell me, sweetie, you’ve fallen for the boy?”

Upon asking the question, Cal skidded his boots against the soil, halting his pace to anticipate Jidné’s response.

The Inquisitor’s reply was a low growl rumbling within Jidné’s throat—it did very little to intimidate her, it rather amused her, and she took it as a yes. A pink line appeared on the girl’s jaw underneath the older humanoid’s long, polished fingernails. She licked her lips and grinned.

“That’s cute…” she clicked her tongue. “But sad.”

The Sixth Sister shoved Jidné’s face away from her hand, finally letting her go. Her suggestive, coy tone transformed into a firm and demanding one. She turned aroud as she followed behind the Stormtoopers pushing Cal into their vessel.

“Chart a course to Mustafar,” the Twi’lek stopped and turned around to find Jidné standing as still as a rock pillar. “Oh, you’re coming too, Jidné, sweetie. Can’t collect your bounty without getting it from the source, hmm?”

The whole time as they walked through the rest of the canyon pass, Jidné can’t find the strength to look at Cal in the eye and face him as this revelation unfurls at this very moment. Having no other choice, she pressed a button on her right-hand gauntlet which remotely activated and controlled the Scarab—even from afar. A distant rumble thundered, followed by the whirring of an engine’s throttle until the sound got closer and louder.

The Scarab zoomed past above their heads and—using her gauntlet remote—landed right beside the deep gray transport shuttle waiting for them at the end of the path. The exit ramp unfolded as soon as its landing gears touched the drought-plagued soil. She entered the safety of the Scarab, but she wasn’t exactly relieved—not the slightest bit.

“Beee, chirp trill?”

“I know, ID, and it’s all my fault!” she retorted, her anger mixing with her stress heavily affected her speaking tone. She marched to the cockpit and settled herself on the captain’s seat.

From where she sat, she watched the bevy of Stormtroopers herd Cal into the transport while the Twi’lek Inqusiitor was the last board the shuttle—before she did, she gave Jidné a passing glance when she turned in the direction of the Scarab’s windshield. Jidné watched steadily until the entry ramp sealed off the hole where all of the passengers of the transport went through.

“I should’ve told him earlier on,” she snarled, regretting the moment of telling the truth too late. She slapped her forehead. “Fucking idiot!”

Cal was relieved of the handcuffs when he was thrown into the holding area guarded by a pair of Stormtroopers on the other side of the door. During occasional peeks through the small rectangle on the door that served as a window, the soldiers found him surprisingly still and calm, one guessed that he was trying to sleep through the trip.

In truth, Cal has spaced out for he can’t pinpoint the emotions that’s gathered in his very being and all of them revolved around Jidné. He starts with his infatuation for her until, it would be violently interrupted by the loud confusion that birthed from the moment the Sixth Sister opened her mouth and exposed Jidné’s agenda.

_“I was going to hand you over… until I decided not to.”_

Her words had burned its way into his head. He afforded the luxury of meditating through the rest of the journey. When he closed his eyes, he felt a faint pang of Jidné’s energy mingling with his—as if in an attempt to resonate, but slowly dying down like candlelight on the verge of being extinguished. In the middle of his trance, he could sense a sheer amount of regret, a soul that was once loud with laughter and stories has become languid and dispirited—although, buried within those inhibitions was a tiny spark that seemed to be holding up. He followed that spark, but it kept eluding him; just when he thought his subconscious self has gained on that little speck of light, he was cut short of his meditation when the turbulence from the atmosphere rattled the vessel.

They have arrived.


	18. Altering It Further

A black, high pyramid tapering upwards marked the desolate, volcanic landfill that is Mustafar.

Jidné piloted the Scarab close to the transport shuttle’s tail, led by the Sixth Sister in her specialized TIE Fighter.

Jidné didn’t even realize that she’s held her breath even after getting through the atmosphere, the turbulence on her end was light, but the eeriness of the landscape captivated and frightened her at the same time—concentrating all her attention to the castle sitting by the edge of the black plateau. A single stream of glowing, red-hot lava resembling a waterfall accentuated the structure’s ominousness.

All three ships occupied the open hangar, albeit being a wide space. Jidné alights the Scarab and joins Cal’s side while he’s held by one Stormtrooper in the other.

Subtly using the Force, Jidné curled her fingers and willed the hool of Cal’s poncho to rise and cover his head. She was careful enough to make it go unnoticed by the Stormtrooper, but of course, it took Cal by surprise to feel his hood suddenly moving on its own. He turned his head to the only possible culprit—though she still didn’t look back to him, she couldn’t.

“The hot air here’s gonna make your head feel like it’s scorching,” Jidné mumbled through her cowl with the coil covering the bottom half of her face. She bobbed her head closer so her voice is still within the redhead’s earshot, making her more audible over the sound of the geysers spewing the said hot air.

Not once did she turn her head to face him as she spoke.

There was no response from him. She isn’t expecting one anyway. Understandably so, she immediately put herself in the mindset that Cal was furious with her. Though, he himself seems to contradict. His gentle surprise caused his eyes to remain on her, studying her feature and expression—the languidness on her face gave off the illusion that her laughter was a thing of the past, her dejected eyes slowly blinking and her head panning by the inch as she surveyed the castle and the landscape around it.

Cal, Jidné, and the rest of the Stormtroopers followed the Sixth Sister to the main door unprompted.

“Inform Lord Vader that we have the boy and that the bounty hunter is with us,” the Sixth Sister commanded the scout trooper manning the terminal.

“Copy!”

The scout trooper presses the button and spoke through the microphone head, relaying the exact words of the Sixth Sister. The door rumbled open seconds after the scout trooper concludes his announcement and they continued to follow.

The outside of the castle was one thing, but the inside was another story. Something about the interior made Cal and Jidné’s skins crawl—an alien feeling that they can’t describe, but somehow know of.

The Dark side of the Force.

The Sixth Sister has led them to the receiving chamber where Darth Vader meets those who wish to see him; on one side, there was a large rectangular slit on the wall facing the volcanic view outside, and in the other, was the door connecting the foyer and Darth Vader’s chamber.

All of them waited there. Even Jidné and Cal can feel the red Twi’lek tensing up.

The heavy creaking of the door caused everyone in the foyer to turn away from the window, smoke was spilling through once it went ajar, from a thin slit to a gradually gaping space until it revealed the tall figure, darker than the obsidian on which his fortress stands.

There mere sight of him shook the two young Jedi to their very cores. The monotonous breathing that filed the room has pierced its way to the hearts of everyone present and made their stomachs sink as if anchors had been tethered to them. The cool, poised façade of the Sixth Sister seemed to ebb, both Cal and Jidné sensed it, but the feeling’s mutual.

Darth Vader acknowledges the Inquisitor, Jidné—who he still believes to be a bounty hunter—and the prize in question, the Jedi boy Cal. He marched along the narrow bridge connecting the door and the foyer. As per custom, the Sixth Sister lowered herself to her knees as the dark lord approaches them. The closer he got, the more profuse the trembling became for the two young Jedi; only then did both of them truly have processed just how lumbering Vader was in size and the authority he imposed in his every step, in the slightest tilts of his helmet, and the blood-red glint of his mask’s eye sockets.

“My lord,” greets the Inquisitor.

“Rise,” he lowed rather disinterestedly. A slow sideways wave of his hand and the Twi’lek was quick to obey.

The Sixth Sister stepped aside to present the Jedi boy and the bounty hunter by his side. The Sith Lord stepped closer, Jidné’s elbows buckled closer to her sides while Cal’s already-clenched fists closed even tighter. As much as they wanted to avert their eyes to spare themselves from the terrifying sight of his mask, they couldn’t. In the end, they had to roll their eyes up in order to look at him in the eye, or at least through the pair of convex bumps that gleaned red when the light hits.

“Well done, Jidné,” Vader hummed.

Vader gestures at one of his personal bodyguards in that foyer—a Shadowtrooper: their armor was a glossy, jet black, perfectly blending in with the background whilst having a cloaking device that will mask their entire person. The Shadowtrooper approached one side of the room and what sounded like the latch of a trunk opening, he produced a storage canister—same as the one Jidné received for her upfront payment—he then activated a podium that erected from the floor at the touch of a button of his gauntlet for him to settle the container down. Performing a series of button patterns, he set off the lock to reveal that only a half filled the inside.

“That could only cover my fee, not the bounty price,” Jidné pointed out, maintaining character.

“Were you expecting a thicker stack? Or a second canister?”

“You don’t hear me complaining, m’lord,” Jidné blurted. “I was just stating the obvious.”

“Do not concern yourself over something that’s been considered done and covered. After all, you have accomplished what my two Inquisitors failed to do,”

She didn’t respond to the commendation, though Vader perceived her head hung low as she drew a heave of breath as a reaction. He then turns to the boy. The tension at Nur ran fresh in both of their minds—however, Vader was fueled by his recollection of the entire inconvenience that transpired in that stronghold.

Cal gets himself hauled forward to Vader, the Stormtrooper struggles to push the boy towards the large, lumbering figure that is the dark lord of the Sith.

For once, the dark lord has the opportunity to examine Cal without any lightsabers clashing angrily against one another. His blank, empty eyes stared right into the boy’s eyes—more alive than his could ever be—and Cal attempted to keep a brave face, despite repressing the shuddering that’s trying to break free from his body.

“Now, you will surrender the Holocron,”

In Cal’s mind, everything made better sense now. He turned to Jidné, and then to Vader. He managed a small smirk right in front of the dark lord.

“I don’t have it,” he muttered.

“Liar.”

Cal shakes his head whilst the smirk on his face grew.

“I really don’t,”

Vader’s head jerked to the girl, searching confirmation from her indifferent expression—he sensed that Jidné knew something as she continued to keep her head low and her eyes away.

“Then you’re hiding it somewhere,” insinuated the Sith lord. He looks at Jidné. “Tell me what he has done with the Holocron.”

Silence spoke on Jidné’s behalf. She rolled her eyes to Cal’s direction, avoiding Vader’s.

His short-lived patience is now spent. He hoisted his hand in level with Jidné’s neck, the air rumbled within the two Jedi’s radius, a heavy glom wrapped around them—Cal could feel its weight on him, but it was Jidné who had more of the receiving end.

She started to struggle in breathing, the gulps that she swallowed all lodged in the middle of her throat, the veins on her neck were pulsing as the muscles around it tightened. Jidné clutched her neck, hoping that rubbing it would make it go away—instead, she continued to gag, short breaths did not sate her lungs. Her eyes finally trailed up and found the root cause—Vader’s gloved hand is positioned into an open grapple directed in front of her. It didn’t take long for her to submit on her knees—in a moment, on one knee, and then the second in the next—her hand was still on her neck, clawing off a non-existent grasp asphyxiating her.

Darth Vader doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon… not until either of them talks.

“LET HER GO, SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!!!” Cal raised his voice against Vader, though that didn’t convince him and continued to strangle the girl.

Again, Cal took his voice to its peak, so much so that the words strained his chords, “THE HOLOCRON IS DESTROYED!!! _I DESTROYED IT—NOW LET HER GO!!!”_

The suffocating ripple of the Force coiled around her neck finally vanished into thin air. Jidné inhaled the deepest that her lungs could take—the biggest one she’s ever done in her entire life! She exhaled in coughs and fully collapses to the ground as she felt like her spine had turned into liquid. She breathed a few more time to reset her pattern before pulling herself back, little by little.

“Jidné…? Are you okay?”

It was a subtle nod that she did to reply to Cal. Her panicked heart still raced until she mentally willed it that she’s still alive and breathing.

“You…” Vader trailed off. “Destroyed it?”

“I’ve seen and remembered enough names when I opened that Holocron. If you kill me now, you will never get a _single_ one of them!” Cal snarled.

Perhaps in a way to rub it in his face, Vader leaned closer to Cal until a mere inch of space divides the two of them.

Vader purred, proud of himself that he had outwitted the boy, “But I _can_ get it out of _you_.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Jidné inquired, still trying to keep in character.

“That is not of your concern. You should concern yourself more with the second half of the bargain,”

Darth Vader promised the second payment to Jidné if she stays until Cal is brought to the torture chamber. The simple mention of that word made Cal’s heart beat twice at a time. He has only seen the machine when inactive in real life, he’s seen it at work but only in his Force vision of Trilla’s memory—he could think of a hundred ways how it would feel if it was he himself strapped to the machine.

The Shadowtrooper adjusting the canister an inch forward was supposedly a prompt for Jidné to take the money, but she didn’t want to take it. Blood money, she thought. Seconds later, Vader notices her hesitation.

“Is there something else, child?” Vader inquired.

“N-No… my lord,”

“Then take it,”

She clenched her fist to eradicate the trembling. His invitation for the girl to take the money was a trick challenge he’s imposed—should the Sith lord notice the fumble in her hands, his suspicions would immediately be proven true.

Eventually, Jidné’s fingers wrapped around the handle and pulled it away from the podium. She still could not will herself to look at Cal in the eye, presuming that she had truly betrayed him—if only she could freeze time, she would’ve shouted it until her voice reaches the very foundation of the building that she _has_ fallen for him and that she doesn’t want to do this anymore.

Jidné slowly turns around, her back against everyone else, as she was dismissed by Vader himself so she can return to the hangar to hide away her bounty.

“I shall expect you in the torture chamber soon, Sheedra,”

That stopped Jidné in her tracks. Her grip around the handle tightened until her palms swelled. Ever so slightly, she bobbed her head to the side, one inch shy of showing her face over her shoulder.

“Understood.” She huskily replied, a dreary tone rasped as she spoke.

Eager to leave, she continued to walk away and succeeded in hiding the tears streaming down her cheeks as she takes every step.


	19. Out of Here

Jidné had never felt more alone in five years.

The hallway in which she marched through made her feel small. The canister in her hand hung heavy—literally and figuratively—she thinks she couldn’t hold onto it much longer. The droid clinging on her body harness peeked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her expression, ID has noticed that Jidné has been awfully quiet, save the stifled, repressed sobs that squeak out of her throat.

“I’m… It’s nothing, ID,” she mumbled and then bit her lip.

Warm wind suddenly gusted through Jidné’s spine, it wasn’t from the circulating air in the fortress—it was something else. She looked around only to find nothing but herself and ID in the desolate corridor.

 _“Is that truly your final resolve?”_ the disembodied voice of Master Anesh called out from the nothingness.

Hearing Nomara’s voice again when she least expected it took her by surprise. Jidné searched left and right for the Force ghost of her late master until she found blue smoke materializing in front of her; it started out hazy and shapeless, from the Jedi girl’s eyes it appeared to be wafting towards her—the closer it got, the more defined the silhouette became, from the montral tip down to the sweeping hem of Nomara’s robes.

Unlike her previous encounters with a vision of her master, this one felt significantly different: it was warm and sage, like how Jidné exactly remembers Master Anesh until her death.

“Master…” Jidné gasped. “I… I feel like I’ve failed. I _have_ failed, haven’t I?”

Nomara, stood close in front of her apprentice, her arms crossed together underneath the overly-loose sleeves of her robe. Even in her Force ghost form, a rather melancholic expression painted upon her face; empathizing with her disdained apprentice, the Togruta took notice of the cylindrical case in the girl’s hand, the tightness of the grip was fluctuating.

_“Your actions contradicted your true feelings, Jidné, and here you are fighting it all by yourself **and** within yourself,”_

“I know what I should’ve done—then if I did, none of this wouldn’t have happened! If only I’d told him the truth sooner, but that doesn’t matter now…”

Jidné proceeded to walk forward on the way to her ship. The Togruta’s shoulders rose and then relaxed, her calm expression contrasted against the troubled child who was on the verge of tears.

 _“Do not succumb to your regrets, my little one,”_ Nomara’s hand rested on Jidné’s shoulder, subsequently hindering her from walking and convincing her well enough to heed and listen.

The girl was taken aback, it’s been a while since she felt Master Anesh’s touch. Her hand searched for the phantom and only felt warm air hovering over her shoulder—but it was comforting.

_“You **have** foreseen this, but you still have the power to change it—so that the boy will not fall into such vain of a fate.”_

Their exchange prompted Jidné to subconsciously recall the visions that manifested in one particular meditation. Recalling to the final seconds before she had actually left the foyer, she overheard Vader ordering the Inquisitor and Stormtrooper to make arrangements for a torture chamber. She closed her eyes for a moment to revisit the premonition she found in her trance.

It all made sense now: the thud of a body falling to the floor, the pleading that fell to deaf ears—whose voice turned out to be Jidné’s own voice in her own premonition—and the harsh crackling of the electric current coursing around its host.

Vader has ordered Cal’s slow execution… not until he reveals the locations of the children he has memorized.

Her eyes shot up and abruptly turned around to face Nomara again.

“They’re going to kill him!” she exclaimed, and then she gradually reduced to tears as she realizes. “And it’s all my fault!”

 _“Perhaps not all is lost, child. Trust your instincts and the let the Force guide you through,”_ little by little, Nomara’s Force ghost starts to dissolve, she hoists one translucent hand to Jidné’s jaw, running her thumb across the girl’s cheek to wipe away a tear stain. _“Only then will the clarity of your mind erase the conflict that hazes your judgment.”_

Jidné instinctively jerks her hand up to hold Nomara’s now-fading hand on her face. She closes her eyes to savor the warmth—albeit being only an illusion—when she finally opens them again, she finds herself and her droid alone in the eerie hallway of the dark lord’s fortress. The droid peeked over her shoulder again, ID-3 finds a face seething with resolve from his owner.

“There’s still time,” Jidné muttered, and then turned to ID. “I’m going to save him.”

“BEEEEE!!!” the droid bursts with an overjoyed, celebratory trill to the point that he hovered a couple of inches off of Jidné’s back, the girl received his affirming response.

She dropped the canister and ran to the other direction. As her legs carried her through the inorganic hallways, she recalled again the details of Vader’s request in the foyer—the preparations are due in an hour.

“Trill, chirp?” ID-3 beeped, in translation, he asked what Jidné’s plan is.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,”

The duo came across a control center along the way to the prison block. Jidné stormed in and made quick work in emptying the room from Stormtroopers and a KX security droid. ID-3 hovered towards the main terminal and spliced the internals, absorbing data regarding Cal’s torture down to the last bit of information.

Jidné joined her droid and watched the monitors flash number codes, area coordinates, and maps of the locations involved—in this case, the prison block where Cal is held captive. Jidné tapped the projection of the map, zooming in and enhancing the area, and then finding a red blip blinking on a specific section.

“That’s it, the prison block,” she muttered and then read out loud the area code. “Cell Block E-6.”

“Trill, beep!”

“Come on!”

* * *

Cal sat at the very end of his holding cell, still couldn’t fully wrap his head around what Jidné had done. He recollects the look on her face when she was being Force-choked by Vader until she was being prompted to take the money, he sensed the hesitation in the slowness of her reach, and he could’ve sworn he spotted tears welling up at the rims of her eyes—that is why she was so eager to turn away and walk.

Two Stormtroopers paced back and forth in the narrow corridor where Cal’s holding cell is, casually bantering off on random things until it came to the subject of bounty hunting.

“So how does one _get_ a price on their head? I mean, who calls it?”

“I guess it’s the actual person who’s got beef with them, I don’t know, but I’ve noticed that’s how they do it,”

“You ever been to a bounty hunter’s hive before?”

“Well, no, but I’ve patrolled a cantina they went to once before,”

This conversation continued on until the main door retracted open and revealed Jidné entering the prison block. She carried herself in an indifferent aura to continually fool the Stormtroopers. The girl approached the exact cell where they kept Cal.

“Lord Vader ordered me to escort the Jedi to the torture chamber,”

“It’s not yet due in a few minutes,”

Cal gradually stood up, listening to the exchange between Jidné and the Stormtroopers. He tries to read her through her expression as she spoke with the guards. There was her trademark calm and coolness in her demeanor, a small part of him manages to convince him that this was a ploy, but he continued to listen in.

“There was a change of plans,” Jidné rebuked with the casual calmness in her tone.

The pair of Stormtroopers looked at one another, hoping to find something that tells them to believe the girl; meanwhile, Jidné kept her straight face intact while preparing to cast a Jedi mind trick against them, should they see through her bluff. Fortunately, she needn’t to do the latter. The Stormtrooper pressed a button on the control panel, the red ray shield vanishes and Cal was gestured to step out of his cell.

The redhead stood in the very front, the Stormtroopers behind him, and Jidné behind the guards. The second Stormtrooper thought their formation was unusual, but decided to brush it off and nudged the Jedi boy forward.

While they strode through the hallways, Cal senses a motive from Jidné—little did he knew that she’s already putting her plan into play, starting from the moment she walked into the prison block. Jidné patiently waited until they were left in one section of the corridor where it’s empty and devoid of witnesses—especially the patrolling Stormtroopers—when that moment came, the girl found themselves alone in the path and a pair of hard thumping sounds, following two quick grunts, came from the Stormtroopers, who are now lying limp and unconscious on the floor.

Cal turned around to find Jidné shaking off the sting in her hand. His lips parted so as to say something, but he was too taken aback by this other change of plans. Jidné approached him to his back and used the Force to unbind the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Escape now, hate me later,” said Jidné quite abruptly, avoiding small talk with the boy as the tension between them is still heavy and conversing as such would be simply awkward.

“Thank you…”

“Where are they keeping your saber?” Jidné examined Cal’s person and noticed someone missing. “Where’s BD-1?”

“They confiscated it—along with BD-1—but I know where it is,”

ID-3 reacted to BD-1’s captivity, the fast-paced, tone-deaf trilling and chirping from the droid evidently conveyed his eagerness to save his new fellow droid.

“I couldn’t agree more, ID,”

Jidné took her own blaster out of her second holster, “You a good shot?”

“I’d like to think so,” Cal shrugged. A coy, little smirk couldn’t help but emerge on his mouth.

Jidné’s lips returned the gesture and she tossed the ballistic weapon toward him which he skillfully caught.

Cal led the way, Jidné followed and kept cover for him. All throughout, the both of them relied on stealth, not seeing the need to brandish weapons unless necessary. With little to no action, it feels as though time moves differently and rather slowly in this dark palace, where the winding hallways lead to one after the other with hours on end.

Finally, their little adventure in the labyrinthine came to an end when Cal recognized a door and caught a glimpse of the inside.

“That’s it—that’s the door,”

“Who’s in the other side of it?” asked Jidné who was hugging the wall behind him as he peeked over.

“Two guards—one standing in the middle, the other behind a terminal.”

“How do you wanna go about this?”

“Well,” Cal’s eyes trailed from Jidné’s head to toe. “We could use your Shroud. Take them by surprise once we’re through.”

She rolled her eyes pensively, and then shrugged, “Fair enough.”

Cal was the first to leave cover, Jidné stayed closed by the tail. They stood side by side with one another, in front of the sealed door. Cal discovers Jidné’s fists clenching and then relaxing—and the cycle repeats-his eyes trailed upwards, studying her hesitant, nervous expression. Both of them are still fully aware of the tension and awkwardness borne from the scene that transpired back in Vader’s receiving hall.

Cal had already forgiven Jidné the moment she knocked those Stormtroopers out cold and untied him; on the other hand, she’s still under the impression that he hates her for actively _and_ passively betraying him all this time—she wasn’t exactly used to this brand of kindness, being a bounty hunter has somewhat deprived her of such.

Nevertheless, Cal slowly reached. Little by little, he broke through the closed fist, she flinched upon the gentlest tap of his fingernails against her skin; his fingers tangled with her slender yet trembling digits, and his warm hand felt the clamminess of her palm, though he didn’t care. He curled his fingers, further securing his hold on her until she herself gave. Jidné shot him a quick glance with a flinch from the corner of her lip as an excuse for a weak smile.

“Relax,” Cal coaxed.

Jidné tightly clutched on Cal’s hand, almost equal to his own grip, and focused as she taps into her Shroud. She remained still as a stone—her features steady, her grip unwavering—slowly, she lifted her eyelids and saw that it was successful. One look prompted Cal to wave his hand at the control panel at his left side. The bulb under the button blinked green and the door responded by retracting right into its frame.

This startled the guards; the door had opened with nobody on the other side—in their point of view, at least.

“What’s happened?” asked the terminal guard, quite spooked himself as well.

“Don’t know, the door just suddenly opened,” replied the standing guard.

“Must be a wire malfunction. Go check,”

While they debated on what caused the door to open “by itself,” Jidné and Cal had already snuck through the lobby. The two Jedi exchanged glances and conversed with a nod at each other, signaling Jidné to let go and thus end the effect of her Shroud. The moment her hand slipped away from Cal’s, they slowly materialized and took on each guard. In a split second, the guards were denied a single second of reaction time. Jidné charged towards the terminal guard while Cal gunned down the one who approached the door, he also shot down the security cameras fixed on the corners of the ceiling.

“Cal, here!”

She retrieved the Jedi’s weapon. They returned each other’s weapons by tossing them to one another. Meanwhile, ID-3 did BD-1 a kindness by unscrewing the restraining bolt off of the little droid—the tiny white droid spun and danced in front of the probe droid as a gesture of thanks. Cal walked up to his droid and caught BD in his arms, coddling him as they rejoiced in being together again.

“Glad you’re okay, BD!” Cal laughed, mingling with BD-1’s happy beeps.

In a moment’s peace, both Jedi were met with the sight from where they stand. Beyond this lobby was another, but there was an impossible gap between them that can only be connected by a retractable, hydraulic bridge operated by the terminal. Jidné got curious and stood at a safe distance from the edge, peering to the orange, infernal abyss below—the magmatic underbelly of the planet on which the castle’s foundation stands.

“It’s almost the same as the one in Nur,”

“In what?”

“The planet where I last fought him,”

“You… fought Vader? Okay, that just kinda adds up to his list of reasons why he’s after you,”

“I can see your snark hasn’t been choked to death,”

“Takes more than that to kill me, ginger,”

The two exchanged glances with each other. Neither of them can deny the tension looming over their heads, not even the affection they had for one another that bloomed during their stay in Ombari. Obviously, Jidné was still guilty and this was her best effort of an apology—Cal saw her intentions and had secretly forgiven her the moment she knocked out those two Stomrtroopers from the prison block.

A small smile curled along Cal’s lips when he noticed Jidné’s face was flushing in color, when she spotted that boyishly charming smirk, she looked away, though it was futile to hide her blush even over her tough-girl demeanor.

“Come on,” she mumbled, bobbing her head once and briskly walked out of the confiscation lobby.

Meanwhile, in Vader’s chamber, a royal guard opens his commlink disc to answer the incoming transmission of a Stormtrooper. After the report, the royal guard approaches Vader sitting in his open meditation chamber, he relayed the news to the emotionless, blank face of the Sith lord’s mask—a slight turn of the head was his only response.

“Send out the Sixth Sister,”

“Yes, my lord.” The royal guard bowed, he kept it that way whilst he steps back to his original spot. He did what he was told.

From the Sixth Sister’s temporary room, she had felt the disturbance in the Force making its way to her trance. Dark, transient eyes popped and stood out of the crimson skin around it. The small hologram of Vader’s royal guard materialized on the projector connected to the short podium in front of her meditation spot.

A second projection appeared—the map of the castle, zoomed in on Cal and Jidné’s location where they’re both symbolized as a pair of moving, red blips. The Inquisitor made a bemused smirk as she raises her eyebrow at the same time.

“Looks like the kiddies decided to make some trouble,” the Sixth Sister purred.

She concluded the transmission with the royal guard and immediately scrambled to her feet. The Inquisitor uploaded the map data to her own holodisk and left her room to go after the Jedi and the bounty hunter.

* * *

Jidné and Cal sprint through the corridors, but they were still cautious enough to elude the enemy’s line of sight. Even if they had their weapons, they preferred leaving Mustafar as peacefully as they can; little did they know that the Sixth Sister is already after them.

“We need to get to the hangar!” pressed the girl as they ran.

The castle was a complete labyrinth—one would never think that the inside looks _this_ intricate and complicated after looking at the exterior. Perhaps this was one of the subtle, intentional features of the structure: intended to exhaust a runaway prisoner until they got nowhere to go or is simply cornered by guards lest Vader himself.

Both Jedi were trusting their own instincts as they navigated their way through the maze-like halls. They eventually found themselves in the leftmost side of the castle--where they both thought it is the side where they came from upon their arrival here. The corridor’s wall was split by a window that streaked the entire length of the annex; they peered through the glass for a landmark.

“I don’t see the Scarab anywhere, do you think they could’ve taken it?”

“Impossible,” Jidné held her arm up, showing her remote control armguard. “If they did, this would’ve went off hours ago.”

“We must’ve taken a wrong turn after evading those troopers,” Cal theorized.

Jidné confirmed it when she joined Cal’s side and saw the same thing as he does—a hangar filled with ships except her beloved Crescent Scarab. She withdrew from the window and looked around the annex they’re standing in, she finds the combination of a letter and a number painted white on the wall—she doesn’t recognize the label when they arrived.

“We _did_ take a wrong turn,”

“Then let’s circle back,”

Both were startled by the echoing thud of a turbolift arriving at its designated floor.

Cal snatches Jidné’s wrist and drags her along with him. “Come on, we gotta move!”

“I can run fine by myself, thank you very much!”

He heard Jidné but he chose to ignore her, he secured his grip around her arm as they dashed their way through. Eventually, they found the Sixth Sister being the only thing standing between them and the correct hangar. The two young Jedi have caught sight of the ship, but they have to get through her first.

“Going somewhere?” purred the Twi’lek.

“Yeah,” Jidné snarled. “Out of here!”

A suggestive chuckle rumbled in the crimson-skinned Inquisitor’s throat, her white-as-porcelain fangs baring through her amused grin.

Playing along, the Sixth Sister squints her eyes as her grin closes into a smirk, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

She brandishes her haloed saber, one blood-red blade spewed out after the other—against Jidné’s purple and Cal’s cyan sabers.

The hangar became their battlefield, trapped inside a circle of Stormtroopers and Purge Troopers who made a human arena out of themselves around the pair of Jedi versus the Inquisitor.

“I’ve been into better fights than the two of you combined!” the Twi’lek boasted.

The corner of Jidné’s lip curled upward into a condescending smirk, following by a casual shrug.

“Pretty sure that’s a bluff,” scoffed the Jedi girl.

Provoked, the Inquisitor was the first to take on the offensive; and so the two Jedi buckled themselves for the worst.


	20. You Fit Right In

Each Jedi blocked either side of the Sixth Sister’s double-edged saber, and—surprisingly so, for someone so lithe and slender—the youngsters were overwhelmed by the gradual weight taking over the both of them. If there was one thing that was both the Sixth Sister’s weakness and strength: it’s her temper. Her strength rooted from the vexation that Jidné’s taunt brought, then amplified by her tapping into the insidious fountain of power that is the Dark Side of the Force.

Gathering all of their collective might, Cal and Jidné finally pushed the Inquisitor away albeit a struggle to do so successfully. When the standing paces away from them, they afforded to catch their breaths.

“You _might_ have hit a nerve right there, Jidné,”

“Go figure,” she shrugged casually.

The Sixth Sister’s entire personality changed—if they knew her initially as the suggestively mischievous Inquisitor, then it took a full 180 tunr for her to become a dark agent of the Sith, oozing with rage while flailing her saber against two redeeming Jedi Padawans.

Cal and Jidné put the tension between them aside just so they can properly work together in fighting against the Sixth Sister—whose strength was obviously better than theirs combined. This is where Jidné finally realizes what the Inquisitor meant by having better fights than them combined; tapping into the Dark Side of the Force could lead one to a path of many abilities some consider to be unnatural—and this mismatch of brute strength inside a lithe body was one of the many examples.

“Come on now, surely you can do better!” the Sixth Sister roared.

The pair of Jedi—as the battle against the frenzied Inquisitor dragged on—studied carefully her movements, strategized on how to exploit her weakness or her falters, and finally find an opening. While she’s still overly-strong for someone of her stature, the two Jedi studied the enemy’s form—from the widest swing down to the minutest flick of the wrist or change in the grip.

It was clear that the Sixth Sister isn’t bluffing—she never was, in the first place—and she had proven it otherwise through her prowess with her haloed saber.

The seconds felt like minutes as the three exchanged strikes, but the two Jedi held fast. They were especially persistent in getting the upper hand. Gradually out of steam rooting from the rage she uses as energy, the Sixth Sister’s movements have become sluggish—while Cal and Jidné afforded momentary breaths whenever they distanced themselves. Eventually, they got their own hits on her: Cal had jabbed her shoulder, thus leaving a red, burning crater on the flesh, and Jidné produced a searing gash from her abdomen to her thigh, cutting through the fabric of her right pant leg.

The Sixth Sister turned to the ring of Stormtroopers and Purge Troopers that surrounded them. She didn’t like the way the blank faces of their helmets stared at her. It’s like Vader had another set of eyes to watch over her every move, judging her, condemning her—and she had felt such a presence always looming behind. The fear that she’s been turning her back to has come to chase after her.

“Put those weapons to good use, imbeciles!” the Twi’lek Inquisitor snarled, obviously frustrated that her strength was close to outliving its usefulness.

It was the Purge Troopers who obeyed first—there were only two of them, however, they were the formidable Dual Wielder and the Electrohammer trooper. Finally, the Inquisitor afforded a moment to catch her breath and recover from the pain, stepping away while the Purge Trooper pair step in as her proxies.

“Well, finally!” the Dual Wielder snickered, the indigo electrical currents at the ends of his batons crackled with the same enthusiasm.

The Electrohammer Purge Trooper didn’t speak, instead asserted his dominance in this battlefield by pounding the floor with the pommel of his weapon—sending out violet tendrils of electricity sprawling on the floor and then die out seconds later.

“Dibs on the hammer guy,” Jidné blurted.

“Alright,” in a display of roguish cockiness, Cal rotates the center of his saber hilt—transforming his dual-edged saber into its split variant. “Then I’ll even this one out.”

Jidné stole a glimpse of Cal and smiled to herself, a nasal scoff coming out of her in reaction to his remark. Their arena just got wider as the Stormtroopers—who have a strange mix of admiration, envy, respect, and fear for the Purge Troopers as a whole unit—backed away and continued to watch while being on guard in case either Jedi tries anything—by their definition—bizarre.

“Pheh! You think having the same number of weapons as me would save you?!” the Dual Wielder.

“I can try!” Cal snapped back.

Underneath his dark helmet, the Dual Wielder Purge Trooper smirked—impressed by the Jedi’s snarky determination. He’d make his death as honorable as possible, the fighter in the jet black armor thought to himself as their distance hasn’t shrunk yet.

On the other hand, Jidné is up against the slow yet brutish slugger of a Purge Trooper. The oldest trick in _her_ book would be taking advantage of his slowness, but seeing that this was a specially-trained soldier—particularly much more skillful than the standard Stormtrooper—underestimating his abilities would prove to be fatal for her.

Finally, each fighting pair touched weapons. The right saber would clash against the left-handed baton; the cleaving electrohammer nearly severed the blade of purple light. The surrounding Stormtroopers were actually glad that they have moments to spare by simply watching the fight ensue; however, majority of them were already preparing themselves for the Sixth Sister’s command on them to follow suit against the Jedi.

And speak of the devil, she did.

“Fire at will!” the Twi’lek roared at the white-armored riflemen, nearly straining her throat from her command.

One by one, they raise their blasters at the Jedi—who were excessively moving in all directions. It was difficult enough to get a clear shot, but the possibility of _accidentally_ engaging into friendly fire would result to a beating from the Purge Troopers.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Sixth Sister’s fear has been realized. While the Purge Troopers deal with the Jedi youngsters, her eyes wandered around the entire hangar—particularly at the windows of the bridges were commanders would keep post and watch from above. Only this time, it wasn’t an admiral keeping an eye on the Twi’lek.

A pair of Zabrak siblings, stand together in front of the window watching the skirmish below them. The eldest sister subtly kept her gaze on the hunched Twi’lek, anticipating whether or not she’ll return to action. On the other hand, her brother observed the dynamic of the fight—observing the Jedi pair, judging their forms and their coordination together.

“We might have a problem here,” the brother murmured, keeping it only within his sister’s earshot.

“I know,” she chided.

“Shall I inform _him_?”

In that moment, after the brother asked, by pure coincidence, it feels as though the Sixth Sister and the female Zabrak had locked eyes with one another, despite the tinted gray windows only showing a silhouette. The Zabrak woman’s shoulder flinched but suppressed it quickly by clenching her fists behind her back. The Twi’lek’s eyes remained on the commander center with the tinted window, incapable to see anything from her end but is being looked upon.

The brother verbally nudged his older sister with the same question.

The elder Zabrak sister paused for a moment, she made a quick sigh. Her eyelids dropped as she came to a short yet difficult deliberation with herself. She inched her head to her brother and gestured a small nod to him, prompting him to turn tail and leave the room towards the unspoken yet known destination.

Much later, the Stormtroopers joined the fray—but only at a safe distance—there were brave ones who dared to squeeze the triggers. Some missed, a few found a different mark, whilst a handful got banked by the Jedi—the latter slowly thinned out their numbers as Jidné and Cal traded blows with the Purge Troopers. This tactic of theirs continued until the Stormtrooper commanders donning the red-orange pauldrons motivated their men to continue attacking; the Scout Troopers who wielded batons eventually joined into the very complicated whirlwind of blades.

“I’ve had enough of this!” Jidné bellowed, kicking away a Scout Trooper about to attack her from her 6 o’ clock while waiting to catch her saber she just flung to her Purge Trooper.

Jidné crunched a button on her gauntlet and a tiny light glowed under the keycap. Even though the battle grunts, the threatening snicker from the Purge Troopers, and the blaster fire from the Stormtroopers drowned out any other sound in the hangar—the Crescent Scarab revving and warming up its engines prevailed.

Everybody—even the Twi’lek—stopped to turn their attention to the growing sound of a turbine’s whir. Jidné smirked when she noticed lights flickering in the cockpit—essentially bringing the Scarab to life—and the hydraulic steam sputtering out of the landing gears as they slowly fold into their respective hatches.

“There’s a good ol’ girl when I need it!” Jidné celebrated to herself.

While the enemy was distracted the freighter being remotely controlled by the girl, Cal and Jidné took them by surprise: Cal sent _all_ troopers flying to the ground, flat on their spines, whilst Jidné darted towards the completely disoriented Purge Troopers lying down on the cold, black tile—the girl caught Cal’s second saber in her free hand and then drove both weapons in her hands into the jet-black stomachs of the Purge Troopers.

“NO!!” the Sixth Sister screeched, her mouth stretching into a roundness that showed off her fangs. Her awe-stricken eyes shared the same wideness as her mouth as she watched the Purge Troopers get eradicated by the blades of the supposed bounty hunter.

In the middle of the action, Jidné’s remote had commanded the Scarab’s armaments—an ion cannon on both sides—to turn and aim its barrels at the scene of the fight. At the corner of her eye, Jidné saw this and dashed towards the unaware Cal.

“CAL, GET DOWN!!” Jidné screeched as she tackles him out of the possible radius of the skirmish.

The Inquisitor saw it coming and physically dodged an enormous bullet—two at that—but the Stormtroopers weren’t as fortunate as the three of them.

Seconds after the shots have been fired, Jidné scrambled up to her feet—dragging Cal along with her.

“Come on… Come on!” she urged frantically.

Cal ran in front, Jidné continued to keep herself close behind his back. The redhead sprung from the hangar floor and grabbed onto the door frame of the Scarab’s entry ramp. All the color in his face drained when he saw that Jidné wasn’t behind him anymore.

The Sixth Sister had hindered Jidné in her tracks. The Twi’lek inflicts Force pull on the girl’s legs, causing her to stumble and make a desperate move to crawl away while her hands are still free.

“JIDNÉ!!!”

“MAN THE SHIP!!” cried Jidné as she squirms away from the Twi’lek.

“But…”

“JUST GO!!!”

Cal rushed to the cockpit and witnessed Jidné face off the Sixth Sister one last time before they make their escape. The dashboard dazed him for a few seconds but the redhead pulled it together and began flailing his arms across the control panel before putting his hands on the wheel.

Jidné took ID off of her person, commanded him to join Cal—even though the little droid was vigorously objecting the idea.

“Come on, ID, you have to help Cal and BD-1 in there! Do it for me!”

The probe droid lowed, but his trill was drowned out by the sound of the ship warming up its thrusters. He zipped towards the entry ramp that Cal intentionally kept open and finally rejoined the boy and his droid.

“You think that I’m going to let you go so easily!?” the Twi’lek boiled with a rage as hot as the red of her skin.

Inch by inch, she hauled the Jedi girl towards her and farther away from her own freighter. The floor squeaked as she continues to be dragged against her will, clawing the surface did very little to help her. The malicious grin on her face grew for each pull she made on Jidné.

“Don’t even bother squirming away!” hissed the Sixth Sister, using her other arm to inflict the same ability on Jidné—this time on her upper body. “I will not be the exact same failure as the Second and Ninth Sisters!!”

Halfway in, she brandished her saber with her good arm, closing in on Jidné.

“Now, your Jedi boyfriend’s gonna watch you die—and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The female Zabrak who continued to watch slightly tensed when she watched the Sixth Sister get the upper hand: her eyebrows furrowed, her hand clutching the other behind her back tightened with anticipation, and held all the air in her lungs awaiting for some sort of satisfaction from this suspense.

“Come on, Jidné!” Cal spoke through the clench of his teeth.

But both the Zabrak spectator and the Twi’lek were caught off-guard by Jidné’s next move.

Jidné headbutted the Inquisitor hard on the forehead, disorienting the enemy and consequently losing her focus on the girl—who has afforded enough freedom to move around and retaliate with a Force push strong enough to stagger the enemy.

“What?!” the Twi’lek gasped upon witnessing her would-be victim break free.

Without wasting a single second, Jidné called her lightsaber to her hand and the purple blade obediently emitted out of the hilt by the touch of the switch.

“I don’t plan on dying— _not here, not now!!_ ” declared Jidné.

The Twi’lek snickered, “My, my, you have the pride of a bounty hunter but not the grit of one.”

“No,” Jidné slightly shakes her head. “I have the grit of a Jedi!”

The Sixth Sister and Jidné engaged in one last duel. Cal had already prepped up the ship and kept the Scarab warm, he carefully maneuvered the ship to face the exit of the hangar, but maintained a hovering altitude for Jidné until she makes a run for it.

Jidné did not spare any ounce of her might in battling the Twi’lek.

The rough-and-toughness of a bounty hunter manifested within Jidné as she cleaved her way through the Inquisitor’s defenses; but her elusiveness had the fluidity that of a Jedi, denying her enemy to deal a single hit on her and instead overwhelming the Twi’lek with attacks. The latter has started to regain her strength and finally equal herself to the young Jedi she’s fighting, but Jidné already has gotten a headstart in stealing the upper hand.

With their blades locked on to one another, the Twi’lek was taken aback by Jidné’s strength—it was something that she had never witnessed from any Jedi before—but the pain of her injuries had kicked in and betrayed her once more, slowly bringing her to submission as Jidné shifts all her weight on her blade.

The Inquisitor staggered as she receives a kick in the abdomen from Jidné, in the next blink of an eye—she didn’t feel its first moments—she felt the searing sting birthed by a lightsaber’s edge, cauterizing her flesh into an ugly curdle of dried blood on the wound’s surface. The pain caused her to submit to her knees; for good measure, Jidné pushed her away using the Force.

Before she was able to make her escape, the door behind the Sixth Sister whipped open and revealed Darth Vader—who has decided to take the matter into his own hands. Jidné felt her stomach drop to the soles of her feet upon seeing the Sith lord appear and take the Sixth Sister’s place in the duel.

“JIDNÉ, COME ON!!!” Cal barked, standing at the edge of the entry ramp waiting for her.

Cal’s cry to her snapped her out of frozen state caused by the fear of Vader who was seething with an immeasurable fury and unquenchable ferocity.

Jidné ran—as fast as her legs can carry her.

Her lungs felt sore as she caught her breath in every step. Never has she ever been so afraid to look back over her shoulder. Cal had reached out his hand for her and she extended her hand. Their fingers joined flimsily but unlatched as the Scarab continued its fly-by. Jidné pushes herself one last time and Cal caught her arm, gripping it tighter than never before and pulled her into the freighter.

“LET’S MOVE!!!” Jidné threw herself of the pilot’s seat and maneuvered the ship out of the hangar. Cal joined her in the co-pilot seat by her side.

The Scarab darted out of the hangar, the remaining Stormtroopers, maintenance crew, and deck commanders threw themselves out of the freighter’s path for their lives. Their departure was salt to the Sixth Sister’s wounds, watching them fly out of the volcanic wasteland greatly frustrated her—but also made her fear for her life.

Complete, sheer silence was the only thing that the Scarab seems to have left behind when it disappeared in the sky as it made the jump to lightspeed. Darth Vader’s cape billowed in the hot breeze that the Scarab’s mufflers blew as it left. Meanwhile, the Sixth Sister’s heart was rapidly beating—as if savoring its last few moments of doing so, because she knew perfectly well that there’s no escape from the Sith lord’s wrath.

“I almost feel sorry for her,” the Zabrak brother halfheartedly sighed, his older sister didn’t take kindly to the remark and decided to ignore him.

“My lord…!!” she cracked, disposing all of her pride and bringing herself further to the ground, as if praying to a deity. “Forgive me! Let me pursue them! I am perfectly fit to—!”

Vader raised a hand partially clasped. Her terrified stammering annoyed him; however, her voice persisted in uttering the words “Forgive me” through her gagging until a single crack of bone silenced her fully.

“You are forgiven, Sixth Sister.”

The dark lord of the Sith gazed at the now empty hangar, following the trail of the Scarab upon its departure. He stares at the grey sky that watches over his stronghold. Beneath that blank, emotionless demeanor is an anger that boils hotter than the magma that flows under the foundation of his castle.

* * *

The Crescent Scarab cruises through the system where the hyperspace jump has led to.

The two Jedi finally had the opportunity to relax and catch their breaths. The lone captain of the Scarab sets the ship on auto-pilot mode as she waits for the adrenaline to subside.

Machine hums, droid trilling and beeping were the only sounds that filled the ship. There was still an awkward silence between the two Jedi. The girl was still unable to explain herself—the negotiation, her motives before and after she had the change of heart—even though she’s got a thousand words to say.

Jidné slouched on her seat, elbow propped on the armrest, and her forehead resting on the palm of her hand. Cal watched the slow rising and falling of her shoulders, the subtle shifts of her position in the chair, and watched how her eyes shifted while staring at the ceiling of her vessel.

Her arm reached out to the navigation computer on the dashboard and encoded a combination of numbers and letters. Shortly after that, the screen flashed a miniature preview of the planet that represented the grid coordinates she’s typed.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home,”

“You mean, _we_ are going home?”

Obviously taken aback, Jidné turned her head to Cal to reaffirm what he meant with his emphasis on the word. She dismissed it when he didn’t get the hint in the first moment and resumed control on the ship. Cal volunteered to co-pilot with her and discovered that it was not really that different with the Mantis’s own controls.

ID-3 and BD-1’s collective beeping startled the Jedi youngsters and broke the silence. Jidné and Cal listened to their excited droids.

“From where we are now, we’re just an hour away from Ombari,” Jidné translated. “Wouldn’t want Cere and the others worry about you, huh?”

Cal detected a melancholic tone in her voice, the smile that she flashed in front of BD-1 quickly melted as soon as she faced the windshield again. He easily felt the bittersweet aura that she emitted as he studied her staring into space and the planets that they flew by. The redhead recalled her words when she set him free.

_“Escape now, hate me later.”_

He wanted to prove her wrong—prove that he doesn’t hate her anymore. How could he hate her if she’s practically saved their lives from a new Inquisitor and Darth Vader himself?

His eyes trailed to her fingers fiddling on the dangling accessory strand strung on the saber’s pommel. He notices that her fingers were staying on strand that he crafted for her, her thumb pushed each bead as if counting them one by one.

“Jidné,” he uttered, breaking the silence between them.

She turned to him, waiting for him to finish. Her fingers still playing around Cal’s flower beads.

“I want to thank you again,”

Forcing a weak smile, she sighed. “No need to thank me.”

“No, really, you saved my life. I was trying to make peace with the fact that I’ll die once they start trying to get anything out of me about the Holocron… until you came along.”

Silence again. There was nothing Jidné could think of to say back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said that you were gonna hand me over, until you decided not to anymore,”

She looked away, searching for the right words in the stars.

“Yeah, I did mean that. I simply didn’t think it was right anymore because, well... It’s…” she trailed off, tucking herself in her seat and drawing her leg up to the chair for her to hug it. “It’s a feeling I can’t explain. But you’ve every right to hate me because I didn’t tell you the truth sooner—I hate myself for the very same reason too.”

“No, Jidné, I don’t hate you,”

Her lips parted and she bit them, her grip on the steering wheel made the skin over her knuckles turn white as bone to hide the trembling. Cal’s only response was a deep sigh—he sensed relief wash over her, but it wasn’t enough to ease the guilt anchoring her heart.

They eventually arrived back in Ombari. They did so with the same awkward silence that never seemed to leave them until either of them swallows their pride. When they’ve cut through the atmosphere, the first thing Jidné did was search the Mantis’s signature on her radar; when a ping appeared on her screen, she steered the Scarab close to the other ship’s location. From the windshield, both of them saw Cere, Greez, and Merrin standing outside the Mantis as they watched the Scarab commencing its landing cycle.

When Jidné’s freighter touched Ombari’s soil once again, the crew’s gazes pierced through the thick glass of the windshield and Jidné couldn’t look away like some sort of self-imposed penance for her guilt. She leaned away and let herself sink into the cushion of the backrest, arms crossed and expecting Cal to move in her periphery.

“They’re waiting for you,” she muttered.

Cal didn’t budge. He remains seated on the co-pilot seat next to hers. They exchanged glances with one another and he finally stands up and leaves the cockpit. Jidné swiveled her chair, following Cal as he walks up to the door; she took a few seconds before following him there, discovering that he’s just standing in front of it—as if he had no intention to open it.

“You’re home, Cal,” urged Jidné who’s standing behind him, leaning against the wall opposite to him and having her arms crossed together. “Go on.”

She watched him raise his hand to the control panel, expecting him to press the button and walk away.

The exit ramp hissed open. Warm, gentle sunlight pooled into the vessel—dramatically different from the harsh heat that they were met with when they arrived to Mustafar. Cal stepped out of the ship, basking into the late afternoon sun, Jidné herself went out to fill her lungs with Ombari’s fresh air and warm light.

Cal reconciled with his crew. They welcomed him with hugs that included everyone—even BD-1—and then Greez’s “Where have you been?!” standing out of the indistinct yet cheerful chatter. Jidné watched the modest celebration from the doorway of her ship—the sight put a smile on her face, even if she had no part in it.

As she was preparing to disappear, going back inside her ship, she was stopped by the call of her name. She turned around to find Cal walking back up to her. He snatched both of her hands—taking her by surprise—when he got close.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere, I suppose,” she shrugged.

“I’d still want you around, Jidné. You don’t have to be alone. It’d be like what we talked about before—you and me, the Scarab and the Mantis. Together.”

 _There he goes again._ Jidné sighed in her mind. Puppy eyes in the color of jade shined in front of her, she can feel his fingers running across the smooth skin of her hands.

She sighs, “Cal, I don’t belong here, not after what I’ve done to you.”

“They know.”

That left Jidné into a stammering mess, unsure whether or not to explain her story to the crew, but Cal kept reassuring her—in the kindest tone she’s heard from anyone ever—that he didn’t leave out her effort to save him in his story. She peeked over his shoulder to find the expressions of each crew member standing by the Mantis.

She chuckled humorlessly, “You don’t mind having a bounty hunter hopping into your party, huh?”

“Hey, adds up to the variety,”

Both of them shared a bashful chuckle and their foreheads touched; Cal hoisted a curled finger to Jidné’s cheek, brushing away a loose strip of hair that fell in front of her face and then caressing her cheek. He saw her face flush with color, he could feel the warmth burning underneath her skin. When their gazes locked at each other, time felt like it froze in place, and Cal slowly closed in on her.

Cal gently brushed his lips against Jidné’s. She was warm and soft. He dared to dip his tongue to explore her mouth, finally giving himself the guilty pleasure of her taste. The tip of her tongue ran across the tiny scar that ran across his bottom lip, feeling the slight indent on his mouth. When he withdrew, he followed it up by planting a kiss on her forehead before leveling his face with hers.

“Glad you didn’t stop me this time,” he whispered, the tips of their noses playfully touching.

“I didn’t plan to,”

Cal pulled her in close to him, the closest that both of them have ever gotten with each other, he wrapped his arms around the small of her back, lifted her an inch upward to the point that she had to stand tiptoed.

“Now you’re home with me too, Jidné,”

He whispers as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, in turn, he felt Jidné embracing him back—arms hooked around his back and her hands clung onto his shoulders, her cheek resting against his chest, and a sigh of the greatest relief escapes her mouth as she lets those words sink into her.


End file.
